


a good excuse to be a bad influence

by she_who_drank_vodka_with_cats



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Assassination, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Murder, Riding, Rimming, Sexism, Sloppy Blow Job, Topping from the Bottom, bi-polar Aiden, calling each other cute names like bitch and pussy, emotional mess aka hints of bi-polar, frat boys in love but not acknowledging it, having second thoughts about hurting humans and then killing all those nameless characters, hitting each other for fun, holding hands while peeing, no one is fondling the shaved legs, partly cross dressing for the plan, smooth legs only mentioned but wasted, they are assholes in this, vampire, why am I even pointing out my own plot holes?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_drank_vodka_with_cats/pseuds/she_who_drank_vodka_with_cats
Summary: Aiden asks Lambert for help with a contract, they enjoy their chaotic relationship on the way to their victim, face problems their plan didn't cover and then have celebratory sexjust in a totally dickish, yet entertaining way
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 92





	1. perfect little punching bag

**Author's Note:**

> this work's Aiden: dark hair, long and wavy, brown skin, green-yellowish eyes, trimmed beard, slightly taller than Lambert, long limbs, less broad shouldered than the wolves, bodytype of a runner, build for speed

The watered-down ale came in a dirty tankard and he was pretty sure that what the barmaid had described as a roasted quail was actually a pigeon. It tasted like shit and Lambert wanted to throw it into the cook's face, still he scarfed it all down. He had ingested far worse than the food of this low class brothel, where the whores reeked and the furniture had stains. 

The urge to just get up and leave was great, but there was no other place for him to go tonight. The local tavern had thrown him out after some dip shit dared to insult him and had paid the price for provoking a witcher with a broken arm. Lambert had wanted to argue with the innkeep, but as usual, the blame had been put upon the wicked mutant and in the end it was better to leave the tavern on his own instead of being thrown out of town.

A scantily clad woman sat down beside him just as he finished his dish. She smelled of salt; fresh spunk and tears.

“How about desert?” she leered at him and let her hand rest on the inside of his thigh. 

“I’m not a sweet kinda guy,” he told her with a smile that showed sharp teeth. 

"I can see that by those two big swords you have there. And you look like you know how to use such big sword, too."

Her hand had moved up to rest on his limp dick and Lambert considered her. He knew that she was just schmoozing him up, desperate for his money, but he didn't have a good fuck in weeks and he wasn't opposed to letting some slut stroke his ego for an hour or two. 

His bag should hold one last bottle of _potency_ , a mixture of alcohol, ephedra and anticoagulant that helped witchers get it up in an instant despite their slow heartbeats. This was another pathetic part in his fucked up life he was forced to spent as a witcher, a horny bastard couldn't just quickly rub one out without taking some potion beforehand. 

Putting his hand onto her naked knee, he leaned closer. 

"I can smell you still dripping with your last customer's juices and I'm not gonna coat my dick with another man's cum, so how much for fucking your mouth?" 

For a second, she looked at him with a mixture of embarrassment and anger before giving him a forced smile. 

Her answer was drowned out by a loud shout. 

"How much for this cocksucker? I heard a witcher can take a pounding like no other." 

A big grin broadend on Lambert's face as he turned away from the whore to greet the man walking up to his table. 

"Aiden, you ugly ferret, how long has it been?" 

"Too long, little lamb, too fucking long."

Lambert punched the taller witcher against the arm for the use of that stupid nickname, before pulling him into a tight hug that ended in a strong pat on the back. It didn’t go past his senses, when Aiden slightly winced at the touch, but wearing wounds from the latest hunt was nothing unusual in the life of a witcher. As they let go of each other, Lambert kept a hand on Aiden's arm and eagerly guided him to sit with him. 

"Is this gonna take long?" asked the wench with a huff when Lambert shooed her away to make place for his friend. 

"The fuck do you care?" he waved her off. "Go get us more beer." 

Aiden slipped her some coin, which she took with a sour face, before he turned to Lambert. 

"So, what have you been up to?" 

"The usual, contract on a forktail brought me here. I was stupid enough to destroy the whole nest. The fucker didn't even pay me more, should have left the young ones and come back for them in a year when someone's willing to pay for their heads."

"As I keep telling you. Never do more or less than what you get paid for. Young monsters are basically a witcher's investment in the future, but _no_ ", the witcher of the school of cat turned his voice ridiculously high. " _They would kill people before anyone sets out a contract. Witchers kill monsters and save humans, I'm from the school of puppies and I'll waggle my tail while people kick me around."_

Snorting, Lambert shoved him with his shoulder. 

"Shut up, I don't sound like that." 

"Yeah, sorry, my voice can't go higher." 

The woman came back with another tankard and refilled Lambert's cup too. Aiden winked at her, his smile ever so charming, Lambert could never pull it off. 

"Thanks, sweetie." 

"Now tell me, what brings you to this shit hole?"

The cat leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs beneath the table. 

"You, actually." 

A mean mixture of hope and dread spreaded through the wolf's chest. 

"Is it a job?" 

Aiden nodded his head affirmingly and took a sip of his beer. 

"On what? Talk, Aiden, or I'll piss into your tankard." 

His face scrunched up as he put his drink back down and smacked his lips. 

"I think the barmaid already beat you to it. You know Lord Nikael Berezo?" 

"Is he your client?" 

"No, he's the contract." 

Groaning, Lambert punched a fist to the table and leaned back in his seat. 

"You said you don't do that assassin's shit anymore!" 

"I don't, this is a normal witcher contract on a monster." 

"Oh yeah? Is he a doppler or something?" 

"A higher vampire." 

Lambert leaned forward, getting into Aiden's face. 

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” he snarled, his slotted eyes trained on the cat. 

“I know, I know, witchers don’t take contracts on higher vampires, only the suicidal ones do, but we have to make an exception for this one.” 

“We?” He spat, and wasn't it funny how easily Aiden could get under his skin? “Why?” 

“Because the reward is high and I ask you nicely?"

"Who's your client?" 

Aiden scratched the back of his head as his face twisted into a grimace. 

"I can't tell you, they wish to stay anonymous. It's a matter of security. Berezo is a powerful man and there are some people ready to avenge him in case of his demise." 

"So I was right and this is an assassination with all that secrecy spy stuff, lying and creeping in the shadows. You know that's not my forte."

With one hand on Lambert’s shoulder and the other gesticulating in front of his face, Aiden leaned closer.

“Don’t worry about that part, I’ll take care of it, you’ll just have to tag along. All I need is another good fighter, someone who will make the right choices at the right moments. You are the best I know and taking a higher vampire on by myself is too risky, someone has to watch my back.” The hand on Lambert’s shoulder sneaked around his back and Aiden squeezed him against his side. “There is no one I trust more than you.” 

The wolf took another sip of his beer before mumbling into the tankard.

“You’re a manipulative bastard, you know that, right?” 

A victorious grin spread over Aiden’s features. 

“I know it, you know it, it simply shows how healthy and honest our friendship is that you can tell when I am trying to manipulate you. So, you’re in?” 

“I guess someone has to keep you alive,” Lambert grumbled and nearly spilled his beer when Aiden clapped a heavy hand on his back.

“Ha, I knew I could count on you! This calls for pepper vodka!” the cat witcher waved at the prostitute from before, who was still prancing between patrons, trying to earn more coin. 

She scoffed at him, but in lack of any other clients she went towards the bar. 

“Time for the pleasant part of the evening to begin, give me the dirt. What have the other wolves been up to?” 

Lambert hummed as he thought for a moment.

“Have I told you about Geralt’s child surprise?” 

“Heard it all the last time in Vezima. Is he still trying to outrun destiny?” 

“Dodging and turning corners like a scared rabbit.” 

They snickered in unison at the mental image.

“And Eskel?” Aiden inquired with a grin. “Does he still have that ugly girlfriend? What was her name? Beata? Lil’ Beata?” 

“You mean Lil’ Bleater, his goat?” Lambert frowned. 

“You told me he fucked some woman with horns.” 

“That was a succubus.” 

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he got drunk and mistook his goat for one.”

The wolf threw his head back and laughed out loud.

“I’m gonna tell him you said that!”

The woman returned with a whole bottle of pepper vodka and put it down in front of them with a bit too much force. Pretending not to notice her bad attitude, Aiden beamed at her. 

“Immaculate service they got here,” he stage whispered at Lambert and then turned his full attention to the prostitute. “Tell me, are you here as inspiring decor or part of the goods one can purchase?” 

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“Everything in here can be bought if the price is right.”

“Then I would like an hour of your time, sweetheart.” 

Lambert shoved against his side and glared at him. 

“I was about to fuck her.” 

“I’m not waiting around for some asshole,” she burst out, her hands on her hips. “You can go fuck yourself.”

The other witcher chuckled. 

“You heard the lady, you can fuck yourself.” 

“Oh, up your ass, Aiden,” Lambert barked at him and shoved his raised middle finger into his face. 

Using his quick reflexes, the cat took hold of Lambert’s wrist and captured the offered finger in his mouth.

The wolf yelped in shock and pulled his hand back while pushing Aiden’s face away with the other one.

The taller man was howling with laughter. “It was too dry to get up my arse.”

“You’re disgusting!” Lambert told his friend and wiped the spit off on his trousers. “Stop licking stuff.”

“Don’t worry, I’m won't listen to him,” Aiden told the wench and made a crude gesture with his tongue between his fingers that made Lambert's ears go red. 

He stood up and rummaged around his Pockets. After leaving some coins on the table, he held out a key. 

"The vodka is on me. I've got a room at the local inn, had to kiss the owners ass to get it. He was really wary about witchers after having to throw out one just an hour before." He raised his eyebrow at Lambert. "So, I guess you should sneak upstairs without anyone noticing you. Take it as practice for our contract. You got some _potency_ I could borrow? I'm all out." 

"I know shit about the contract, Aiden, what's there to practice?" Lambert growled, his arms crossed over his chest and decidedly not taking the key. 

"Don't be like that, sourpuss", Aiden rolled his eyes. "We'll ride tomorrow at noon to Novigrad. There's lots of time to catch up and to talk about it on the way."

Huffing, the younger witcher turned his head to the side, mumbling about bitch ass friends under his breath. He knew he was being childish, but he hadn't seen Aiden in months and he was looking forward to spending a drunken night with him, full of swapping stories, bad jokes and worse ideas. Losing his best friend's attention to some unwashed whore hurt and he had thought better of the man. 

"Have pity, I was riding my horse day and night in search for you, not wasting a moment," Aiden sighed theatrically and waved the key around. "There was no time to fight the one eyed trouser snake. Give me just an hour, probably even less." He swiftly turned to the wrench and shook his head, his mouth forming a silent _no_ . "You can enjoy the vodka in the meantime. Either wait here or at the inn, your choice. _Unless_ ," he stretched the word, looking at Lambert's profile speculating. "Unless you want to come upstairs and share?" 

"Share?!" Lambert's head whipped around to stare open-mouthed at his friend the same time the prostitute shrieked in protest. 

Aiden shrugged. 

"Of course, you're my best friend. I'd share everything with you." 

"You're not sharing me," the wrench declared loudly. "I've had enough of you two mutant bastards. Get the fuck out." 

Drawn by the noise, the panderer walked up to their table. 

"Something wrong here, Yuli?" 

"Yeah, those freaks want to share me. They've been cheapskates all evening, drinking the cheap stuff and leading me on. Now both want to fuck me for the price of one." 

Aiden raised his hands pacifyingly.

"I'm sorry, it was said in ill humour. Let me atone for this mishap by paying double. Two whole crowns for the ugly bitch." 

The whore screeched affronted. 

"You can't let him talk to me like that! Thrash that whoreson, teach him a lesson!"

"I think you two better leave this establishment," the man said, not visibly reacting to the wench's shouting. She was already moving backwards, obviously expecting the situation to turn violent soon. 

"Good sir, we're paying customers and we are willing to forget this, drink in peace and leave more coin. I think you'll regret throwing us out." 

"You deaf, you mutant fuck? I said leave!" 

The man shoved Aiden towards the door, the witcher letting himself be moved. 

Lambert was on his feet in an instance and shoved into the panderer's back in turn. 

"You leave him the fuck alone!" 

Two other men were suddenly at their side, one of them bashing a club over Lambert's head, the weapon breaking with the force and nearly bringing him to his knees. He collected himself in a second, the hit, despite ringing in his ears, barely a bump to a witcher. 

Yet, before he could turn on his attacker, Aiden had already jumped forward and punched the man in the face, efficiently breaking his nose. In the same movement, his leg shot backwards and kicked the ponderer into his kidney. Using the momentum, he turned on the spot, gaining speed with his outstretched hand and slapping the last man full force across his face. A loud smack resonated through the room, then the attacker was lying disoriented on the ground. 

Standing between the three fallen men, Aiden stroke his hand through his hair to move the strands out of his face. 

"No need to get up, we find the way out without your help," he deadpanned and threw an arm over the other witcher's shoulder to steer him through the door. 

"You are the greediest son of a bitch I've ever met," Lambert snorted and shrugged off his arm as soon as they were outside. 

"First you steal my whore and then you punch out all of those assholes without me." 

"Not my fault that you're so slow," Aiden teased with a crooked grin. "You got the pepper vodka at least?" 

"You pushed me out so quick, I could barely grab my bag, let alone the vodka. No loss there, you can't get decently drunk on that dishwater."

"I like the burn on the way down," the cat interjected. 

"I'll mix you up something better at your room if you have some white gull to spare."

"It better be a punch to the gut," the cat remarked and walked up ahead towards the inn. 

Two hours later, they were both wasted. They lounged on the bed they would share for the night, Lambert sitting with his back against the headboard, whereas Aiden lay on his back, his head down near Lambert's knee and his bare feet propped up against the wall next to the wolf's head. 

"I'm calling bullshit," he slurred after Lambert's concluded his hunting story, somehow gesticulating with his hands _and_ his feet. "You can't take out a shaelmaar by punching it between its eyes. You would simply break your hand against its shell." 

"It doesn't have scales between its eyes." 

"Doesn't matter, one lously punch won't take it out, the beast's head is harder than that, it's at least as hard as yours!" 

"Alright," Lambert grunted and shoved away the foot that came a little too close to his face for his liking. "You tell me about some obscure monster knowledge you learned on the path, see if I believe you." 

Aiden waved him off. 

"Nah, I never learn."

"True, you keep being a smartass, even when a whoremonger tells you to leave his whore house," Lambert chuckled. "But at least your stupidity is entertaining."

"Oh, already forgot about that. See, not one thing learned from the experience."

"But, uh, what you said. The thing you said back there," the wolf fumbled with his words, his ears already going red. "Is it true?" 

Aiden frowned at him cross-eyed. 

"Is what true?" 

"The school of cat had she-witcher's. Did you ever fuck one of 'em? Do they take a pounding like no other?" 

Propping himself up on his elbow, Aiden took a careful sip from his jar and grimaced yet again at the strong alcoholic taste. 

"First of all," he began his execution, putting his drink back on the nightstand and pointing a finger at Lambert's general direction. "That is not how witchers fuck. That's the _potency_."

Lambert made a farting sound with his mouth. 

"Witchers can't get it up without _potency_."

"Nuh uh, they just can't get it up as quickly. Are you telling me you never took the time to stroke yourself into hardness without using a potion?" 

"I'd be chafed before I get stiff."

"It's not just the stroking, it the teasing, too. Damn, those poor wenches you've been fucking."

"Fuck off," Lambert snarled half heartedly, not wanting to let Aiden insult his sex skills, but at the same time not wanting to interrupt the cat's explanation. 

Aiden laid back down, his head cushioned on one arm, while his fingers absentmindedly trailed up and down his abdomen, capturing Lambert's eyes.

"Sex between witchers is patience. It's long winter nights with nothing else to do, hours and hours of touching and teasing and trusting the other one to make you feel good. And when you come, it's not like that brief punch to the gut that you get with _potency_. There and gone, leaving your skin itching for more. It's like a tidal wave that crashes over you and you're drowning in pleasure and when you think it's over and you can breath again, the next wave has already gained enough power to break over your head once more and take you back down."

Letting out a loud yawn, Aiden raised his arms over his head and stretched his whole body, his hips lifting from the straw filled mattress with the straining of every muscle. 

Lambert looked away and tried to swallow, his throat suddenly dry. His eyes were drawn back when he felt a nudge against the side of his leg. 

"You wanna know what's unfair? The woman, they didn't _have_ to wait for us to get it up. She-witcher's fuck around like any human woman. Kelena would come two times before I was ready to enter her and then she was too fucked out to do more than just lie there. That's why most of us preferred to be with someone who had the same needs. Oh, don't look so scandalised, little lamb," Aiden laughed at Lambert's frown. "You must have had, I don't know, puppy piles or something at Kaer Morhen during cold winter nights."

"I grew up with those men, they're like brothers to me. And just the thought of Vesemir-," the wolf broke off and shuddered. 

"But it's okay if it's your sister? You're such a hypocrite." 

"You're the one fucking his brothers and sisters, you weirdo," Lambert interjected defensively. 

"I'm not though, you see. They are not my real family, _those_ bastards are lucky that I haven't met them again since they abandoned me. And the other cats? Let's just say, our reputation did not come from nothing. Not every one of us is a psychopath, mind you, I had many friends at the school of the cat. But I never felt save or close enough with them to call any them my family."

"Sounds lonely," the wolf said without thinking, then struggled to lighten his words. "I mean, Vesemir is a crusty old bastard and Geralt and Eskel are dicks, but it's nice to know that I can rely on them. That there is a place I can go home to every winter."

"Nah, it's okay," Aiden assured him with a pat to his thigh. "I got you, don't I?" 

Lambert gave his friend a soft smile that felt unfamiliar on his face. "Sure, you do." 

Feeling his ears go warm, he broke their gaze and took a large sip from his mug. 

"What a disappointing night at a brothel," Aiden sighed dramatically into the awkward silence that followed. "There was neither a good fuck, nor a good fight to be had. _Unless_ ," he stretched the word out, hissing it like a snake. He rubbed his face against Lambert's leg, while his friend waited for him to finish his thought. "Well, unless you are willing to put out?" 

The wolf snorted. 

"Sure, I'll give you a good fight, show you what a real slap feels like."

"A real slap?" Aiden tittered. "You mean the one that wiped the man right off his feet wasn't a _real_ slap?" 

"Pshhh, that guy wasn't even unconscious." 

"Alright, I bite," the older witcher rolled over and sat up on his knees right in front of Lambert. "Slap me."

The wolf shrugged his shoulders and put his drink down, mirroring Aiden's position. 

"You asked for it."

And without further warning he stroke his flat hand through Aiden's face. 

The cat's head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, his hand coming up to hold his sore cheek. 

"Okay, that stings, I give you that. But I am not even close to being unconscious." 

"That's because you're a witcher. A human couldn't get over that hit so quickly." 

"Right, my turn!" Aiden declared with a smirk, removed his glove and lunged out to quick for Lambert to follow. 

The wolf had to tense up his muscles to keep upright. He worked his jaw carefully as he turned back to face the other witcher again.

"Good technique, but there is no strength behind it. Are those muscles in your arms pure decoration? " he mocked while Aiden shook out his hand with a hiss. 

"You wanna try that again?" 

"With gusto," Aiden agreed and readied himself for the next strike. 

They slapped each other in turns, giggling uncontrolled in between whenever someone managed an especially hard swat or completely missed his target. Lambert's eyes watered after Aiden miscalculated a hit and stroke only his nose, whereas Aiden's smile had become red, the blood from his split lip gathering between his teeth. Both their cheeks were hot red and their palms stung and tingled. 

Aiden groaned after another viscous smack and shook his head. 

"Damn, they put silver into those sharp cheekbones during your trials?" Lambert hissed and blew on his palm. 

"All natural, babe," the cat huffed and raised his fingers towards his mouth. "Get ready, this one's gonna sting."

"No licking, Aiden!" Lambert exclaimed and held his friend's wrist, who had his tongue already poking out between his lips. 

Big, golden eyes pouted down at the wolf. 

"But I always lick my palm before slapping a pussy, it's common courtesy." 

"You're the cat witcher, if one of us is a pussy, it's you," Lambert deadpanned. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be the pussy if that makes you a bitch," Aiden singsonged. "Can I slap you now?" 

Lambert let go of his hand and braced himself. "Go for it."

The cat locked his eyes with his friend's, slowly moved his hand back and calmed his breathing in concentration. With a swiftness his school was famous for, he striked out as quick as a whip. The alcohol, however, had a strong effect on his aim and instead of with Lambert's cheek, his hand connected with his ear. 

His witcher instincts taking over, Lambert moved with stroke that resonated like an explosion against his ear, and toppled over the side of the bed. 

Through the ringing in his head, he could hear Aiden's uproarious laughter. 

He was wiping away tears from his face before throwing himself gracelessly onto the ground, too. 

"Fuck, you okay?" he asked between pants. 

Lambert tried to stand up, but found the task difficult, for the room had started spinning. His head was ingulfed by strong arms and he was pulled against Aiden, who was still bubbling up with laughter. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he giggled and pressed a batter of kisses against the bruised ear, not letting himself be shoved away by Lambert's weak attempts to get him off. "Sorry, little lamb." 

"Let's just," Lambert pressed through his teeth. "Let us just call it a draw." 

Aiden let out another snort and helped his friend up.

"Time for bed, anyway."

They undressed clumsily, Aiden's light armor landing in a heap next to Lambert's thicker one on the floor. The wolf had to rely on the bed for support to keep his balance, while the other man stumbled drunkenly from side to side, undressing his socks proving to be a challenge all on its own. 

The moment they finally laid beneath the covers, Aiden rolled over, threw an arm over Lambert's chest and a leg over his hip. 

"What are you doing?" the wolf grumbled drowsily and tried to wiggle away. The limbs around him simply tighten their hold. 

"Sharing affection," the tired reply was muffled into his hair. "After struggle comes the snuggle. Now shut up and sleep." 

Harrumphing, Lambert turned over and let himself drop on top off Aiden. The other man wheezed with the sudden weight on his lungs, but after getting his breath back, he simply sneaked his arms around his friend and closed his eyes. Both of them fell asleep feeling smugly content. 


	2. a friend that doesn't pray for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> road trip and stake-outs! but everything sucks, because it be like that sometimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your nice comments!! they are fuel for my writing and help me wade through this mess that's slowly getting clearer 🌻
> 
> of you can think of tags that I am missing, please tell me, this should be a save reading experience

They rode towards Novigrad at a leisure pace. Aiden assured Lambert that time was not of the issue, that it was even better if they let some days pass before making their move. 

The trained assassin had showed the witcher a fresh scar along his side while they made a break to take a piss at the side of the road. 

"This is what I got for trying to get in on my own," he recounted, one hand holding his shirt, the other one holding his dick. 

Glancing over, Lambert shook the last droplets off and shoved his cock back into his trousers. 

"Doesn't look too bad." 

"Yeah, after twelve stitches and taking _swallow_ ," Aiden snarled. "But I had to fake my own death to get Berezo off my back. I let them catch me at St. Gregory's Bridge, let one controlled stab get through my defence and threw myself off the bridge." He fastened his trousers, cursing when the strings slipped between his fingers, then they got back on their horses. Lambert intently listened to his friend's story as they continued their travel. 

"Low tide was just setting in and the current pulled me away fast enough for the guards to not search for my body, but it was pure luck that I wasn't drifting further out into the ocean and drowned. I was able to hold onto a fishing net, a day later a boat came to pick up the haul and me with it."

"As far as your escape plans go, that one was shit," Lambert commented. 

"No shit, there was more improvisation than even I am comfortable with. That's why we will take our time, have some stake outs, assess the situation before rushing in. Hey, you wanna stop for the night? I can hear a stream nearby."

When Lambert turned his head and tuned in his senses, he could hear the burbling of the water, too. Nevertheless, he couldn’t understand why Aiden wanted to stop so soon again. 

“We just paused to take a piss.” 

“Yeah, but the sun is already pretty low and I don’t want to set up camp in the dark.”

“If you can keep your tiny bladder under control for the next hours, we will reach The Seven Cats Inn shortly after dark and can sleep in a bed.” 

“We can’t sleep at The Seven Cats,” Aiden frowned. “Did you miss the whole part where the city thinks I’m dead? The inn is a hotspot for gossiping merchants and travelers who like to earn their coin with information. Information like two witchers entering Novigrad.”

Stopping his horse, Lambert growled.

“Fine, but how do you plan to enter the city without anyone noticing?”

“There’s a point close to the Oxenfurt Gate where the water isn’t as deep, we cross the river in the dark and walk along the city walls towards a climbable spot. As soon as we’re inside, we head towards my contract.” 

He dismounted, not waiting for Lambert to object and lead his horse off the road into the undergrowth. 

Sighing, the wolf followed suit. He knew his friend well enough by now to notice his mood swings early on, but still had no idea how to prevent them. Worse, he didn't know how to handle them. He grew up with a bunch of emotionally repressed men who were told their whole life that the mutations had numbed their feelings, though it was obviously untrue. The witchers of the school of the wolf were just too stubborn to stop pretending that they didn't care, whereas they cared deeply, constantly. 

The rumors claimed that exactly the opposite was expected from the later formula used to mutate cat witchers. Their emotions were great and many, making it impossible for them to stay neutral and fueling their motivations during a fight. Lambert couldn't know if his friend's outbursts were truly a cat witcher thing or simply an Aiden thing, given that the tales about wolf school mutations were bull shit as well, but he knew when his friend was happy, he was elated and when he was sad, he was deeply grieved.

Reaching the stream, they followed it down until they happened upon a patch of open space wide enough to accommodate them. 

The horses were secured at a tree close enough to the water that they could drink from it. Lambert laid out their bed rolls and searched for food, while Aiden gathered dry wood and build a campfire. 

When the wolf witcher came back with a squirrel and a small rabbit in hand, Aiden was still bend over the stacked wood, swearing creatively while the flintstone's spark refused to catch onto the tinder. 

Nearly bursting with frustration, the cat jumped up, threw the flints to the side and, with a shout, kicked the pile of woods away, sending branches and twigs flying everywhere. 

The horses whined and tugged on their leashes, Lambert had to use Axii to calm them before turning towards Aiden. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he fumed, checking the spot on the hind leg of Aiden's horse, where he saw a piece of wood strike. 

"Oh, so sorry, how ever should we cook our feast now without a proper fire?" Aiden spat, pointing at Lambert's meager prey. 

"Calm down, you're being a dick again."

"Don't you tell me to calm the fuck down!" 

He stomped up into Lambert's space, his nostrils quivering and his lips snarling. 

Lambert shoved him away, not wanting to play along with Aiden's stupid tantrum, but before he could walk past him, the cat had shoved him back in turn. 

They struggled, jostling and tugging at each other. Lambert managed to push Aiden down, but the cat took him to the ground with him. Grunting and gnarling, they tumbled over each other, both trying to get the upper hand, until they rolled down the embankment and, with a loud splash, fell into the water. 

Lambert was the first to surface. 

"Fuck!" he yelled at the sudden cold. 

Next to him, Aiden's head emerged out of the water, spluttering. Indulging his anger, Lambert pushed him under once more, before wading back onto land. 

Aiden stayed behind, panting for breath and swiping his wet hair out of his face. 

"Yeah, run away," he shouted after him. "Just piss off and leave me alone." 

"Maybe I will," the wolf growled back. "Hell, my life surely will be easier without you in it!" 

"Yeah, because it was all sunshine and roses before we met!" 

Turning his back on the hissing cat witcher, Lambert stomped back to the camp. He would have loved to take his stuff and leave the way he had threatened, just to stick it to Aiden, but instead he started gathering up the wood and rebuild the fire. 

He could hear the splatter of water as the other man finally walked out of the stream, too. When he looked up from his task, the cat sat at the river side, his head resting on his knees and his hands clenched into fists. 

It was already dark, when the anger inside of Lambert had dwindled enough for him to approach Aiden. The witcher still sat unmoved on the ground, meanwhile Lambert had started a fire, hung up his soaked clothes and made supper. He had boiled some water, cut up the meat and added the few vegetables from his reserve to make a soup. Every edible plant and root he could find around their camp had been mixed in, too. 

Now that the work was done, he sat at the warm fire, poking in his battered bowl with a spoon and glowered at Aiden's back. He could see the other man shivering and cursed him for being a stubborn ass. Watching the silent suffering really did not help Lambert's appetite. 

Making a lot of noise, he rummaged through Aiden's pack, pulled out his bowl and filled it with soup, too. 

"I made us something to eat," he announced as he walked up behind Aiden. "Fuck, are you crying?" 

Close up, it was easy to smell the tears and hear the shaking breaths, he should have noticed his friend's distress earlier, had he not been stewing in his own frustration. 

"What's it to you?" Aiden snuffed and wiped his nose on his still soaked sleeve. 

Lambert grumbled and perched down next to him. He hated these situation where he felt out of his depth. Aiden seemed always to be bigger than life itself, calling for attention by only stepping into a room. The wolf used to think of it as a bad trait for a witcher, but he soon found out that people tended to respect Aiden for the confidence he exuded. It was as always an unsettling sight to find a great man making himself so small. 

"You, uh, you wanna talk about it? You once said talking helps?" 

"No, I don't wanna talk. Fuck past me for saying that. And fuck present me, too, while we're at it!" 

"That's not _not_ talking, Aiden," Lambert rumbled in return. 

"See, I can't even do that right," the cat moaned self-pityingly. "I just fuck things up all the time and then I get the people I love tangled up in my shit, too. I don't even know if Pinky's even alive or already dead for helping me." 

"Who the fuck is Pinky?" 

"My contact in Novigrad," Aiden sobbed into the crook of his arm. 

Lambert let out a long suffering sigh and put an unsure hand on his friend's shoulder. 

"We'll figure that out when we're in the city. And I like being tangled up in your shit. Like it more than finding out you died trying to fix your messes by yourself, anyway. Now stop being a little bitch and eat something." 

Aiden finally looked up at Lambert with red-rimmed eyes and gave him a trembling smile. 

"I thought we had made it clear that you are the bitch and I am the pussy." 

"Today, I am the pussy for being unable to not give a fuck and leave you sorry ass out here alone." 

He shoved the steaming bowl under Aiden's nose and tried to hand him a spoon, but the cat's face had scrunched up again and another sob wrecked his body. 

"Fuck, what?!" Lambert asked in a panic, taking the soup back. "What did I do?" 

"You made a decent meal out of scraps, while all I did was being a useless shit," Aiden brawled, one hand pressing against his leaking eyes and the other pulling his own hair. 

"Okay, that's enough!" Lambert proclaimed and stood, pulling Aiden up by his arm with him. 

He hauled the crying witcher over to the fire and told him to strip. Aiden followed his orders without complaining, then let his naked ass be pushed down onto a bed roll. His bowl was pressed into his hands and a blanket was thrown over his shoulders. Silent tears still running down his cheeks, he at last began to dig into the food. 

While he hung up his friend's clothes to dry, Lambert watched him and wondered how he even managed to get by on his own. Did he simply not eat whenever he got a mood swing? Was that why he was so ungainly thin? 

"Feeling better?", he asked after they had both finished their dish, Aiden even going so far as to lick out the bowl. 

"Yeah, thanks," Aiden breathed. "Sorry, it's-" 

"The mutations, I know," the wolf interrupted. "Not your fault. Care to share what's gotten you so anxious?" 

"Berezo," Aiden hissed and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "He's a powerful man, has a lot of influence." 

"You didn't explain yet why he deserves to die. He may be a monster, but he's a sentient one. If this really isn't a political assassination, why do people want him dead?" 

"My client, they used to work for him. They know that there are vampires who drink blood, have killed some innocent people now and then to quench their thirst, but Berezo's cruel ways of treating humans is way off the scale. People are nothing more than cattle to him, walking bags of blood that he can make a profit off. He's got a whole organisation to abduct humans and sell their blood to other vampires. The victims are held in cages and kept barely alive to draw as much blood from them as possible. I saw two of those cages," Aiden stressed, his eyes boring into Lambert's. "I saw the young men lying in those cages, drugged up and starving, pale from the blood loss and I couldn't help them. Berezo's guards found me and I had to leave them behind."

He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing in a more neutral voice. 

"He's got his money in all the underground trades in Novigrad, what am I saying, in Redania. Now and then his best customers are treated to a special night, a renowned carnival of pleasure in the front, while vampires can drink straight from a vein in the back. Of course, only the prettiest blood-bags are lured into his home for those orgies."

"I know this is fucked up," Lambert slowly interjected. "But you won't change the world by killing one man. Berezo will simply regenerate. Only another higher vampire can kill a higher vampire. Even if we manage to hack him into tiny pieces, burn the biggest chunks and scatter the ashes over the whole continent, so that it would take centuries for him to regenerate, another bastard will simply take his place and the underworld will keep making business as if nothing had happened." 

"I know," Aiden sighed and turned back towards the fire, watching the flames dance with the breeze. "But I hope we can ruffle their feathers a bit, erupt some chaos and if not stop them, then at least suspend their work." 

Lambert watched the skipping shadows and the fire's orange glow fight over Aiden's face until the man turned with a raised eyebrow. 

"What?" 

"You're a hopeless idealist," the wolf accused him with a loopsided grin. 

"No, I'm doing this for the reward."

"You heard that sob-story and you couldn't say no, not even when you had to face a higher vampire and all of Novigrad's underworld."

"I don't know what you are saying, I'm a greedy bastard, as heartless as they come," the cat smirked and wiped away the last traces of his tears. 

Lambert chuckled and patted his friend's back dismissively. 

"You're an idiot and one of the few decent men on this continent. You will end up in an early grave if you keep this shit up."

"I don't think so."

The wolf made a questioning sound in his throat and cocked his head. 

Aiden raised his hand in an obvious gesture. 

"You've got my back, right? I'm as save as anyone can be." 

"Right," Lambert agreed easily and leaned closer. 

"I really am sorry," Aiden repeated once more and bumped his shoulder against the wolf's. "Thank you for not bolting."

"What kind of witcher would I be if I bolted every time a kitten showed it's claws," Lambert huffed and laid his arm around his friend's back.

Everyone had always warned him about the crazy cat witchers. History books, whispers between humans, his fellow wolves. Lambert was ready to proof them all wrong, he wanted to show them that Aiden was worth more than his mutations. Purely out of spite, he had decided, he would like Aiden. The world would have to try harder if it wanted to push them apart. 

The following day, they rode as close to Novigrad as they dared, before leaving the horses with a farmer who promised to take care of them in exchange for some coin. 

They walked the rest of the way off side of the main roads, the uneven ground slowed them down, but it was no drawback, they had to wait for the dark to cross the river and climb the city walls anyway. 

The closer they got, the more restless Aiden became, fidgeting his fingers constantly and licking his lips every five minutes, but the task at hand kept him occupied enough to stay focused. 

The river was cold, but as Aiden had promised, they didn't have to swim far and the current wasn't strong enough to give them any trouble. Staying in the shadows, they creeped along the high walls until the smooth, stacked stones were replaced by natural cliffs, full of nooks and knobs to hold onto. With the help of cat potion, Aiden swiftly climbed up the rocks despite the dark. Lambert held his breath for the short moment that the other witcher went over the edge and was out of sight, until a long rope was let down. Without hesitation, he grabbed the rope and started climbing, while Aiden was simultaneously pulling him upwards, speeding up the process and therefore minimizing the chance of getting caught. 

Lambert growled at the other witcher as they climbed down into the closest sewer tunnel. Having to cross half the city through the underground grid was the kind of information he would have liked to have gotten earlier. Aiden ignored the reproachful looks, expertly took down the few drowners that crossed their path and confidently lead them through the labyrinth of filth. 

They climbed up a ladder about half an hour later, emerging from the sewers reeking of decay. Aiden watched for guards, before crossing the street and tapping a complicated rhythm against a weather-worn door. Both witchers waited with their breath held, Lambert wondering if anyone did even hear them with all the commotion going on inside, until the door was opened a fraction and a mistrustful eye peered outside. Upon recognising Aiden, the door was opened further and the two witchers were ushered inside. 

"We all thought you were dead!" cried the young woman who had let them inside. 

Aiden gave her a quick hug. 

"Nine lives and all," he told her without actually explaining anything. "Are you okay? Where's Pinky?" 

"We're fine, no one has suspected us of helping you. Pinky's out front, having an eye on the customers. I have to go back to work soon, too."

Now that Lambert looked around, he noticed the makeup and mirrors next to the wash basins. This was probably a brothel's rear room, a place for prostitutes to get ready for the night and fresh up between customers. 

"Your room's still unoccupied," the young whore continued. "I'll send Pinky upstairs later. Oh, and some water to wash yourselves. You reek."

"Thanks, Elle," Aiden told her and took Lambert's elbow to guide him up a staircase hidden behind a clothes rack. 

The room turned out to be a sordid attic with a lonely dresser in the corner and single mattress lying on the ground. 

"Good girls," the cat muttered to himself, checking on the vials on the dresser. "Nobody touched my potions while I was gone." 

Lambert dropped his bag next to the mattress and began to undress his wet armor. The beams holding the roof made for a great place to hang his shirt and trousers, though dust and spiderwebs would cling to them later. After changing into dry clothes, he sat down onto the mattress and tended to his armor, making sure that the leather and metal was sufficiently dry and polished. 

Aiden followed his example and sat down next to him, caring for his own armor and weapons. The familiar routine calmed their minds and the companionable silence soothed them further. 

An hour later, the hatch to the attic opened and another woman climbed up the last steps of the staircase, carrying a bucket full of water. She meticulously closed the hatch, before turning to the witchers. 

"Thank Melitele!" she cheered and jumped into Aiden's waiting arms. "There was a rumor about a witcher having been thrown over St. Gregory's Bridge."

"The rumors are true," the cat confirmed as they let go of each other. "But it was all part of the plan, sorry I couldn't let you know in time." 

"It's okay," she squeezed his arm reassuringly. "As long as you are fine." 

"I brought backup," Aiden smiled and introduced Lambert and Pinky to each other. 

"Unusual name," Lambert couldn't help but comment. 

"Children are cruel," the middle aged woman answered and held up her hand which was missing a finger. "They call you what you are missing and years later the name still sticks."

"Yeah, bunch of uncreative dicks," the wolf agreed with a chuckle. 

Over the next few days, Lambert got the impression that Pinky could be Aiden's secret employer. She ran the brothel with an iron fist, yet seemed to actually care for the girls in her charge. It worried her that so many prostitutes walking the streets alone at night vanished without a trace and that none of Novigrad's people in command gave a shit about some missing strumpets. 

The brothel was within walking distance to Berezo's home and his workplace. Every night Lambert and Aiden would climb through the attic window, split up and silently walk over the roofs towards the two destinations. For hours they would sit alone in the cold night and stare at the windows and entrances of Berezo's buildings, making notice of every guests and every movements. It was the most boring shit Lambert ever had to put up with. 

When the sun was up, they mostly stayed inside the attic, catched up with sleep or kept each other entertained with a card game or some exaggerated story. Pinky had given them another ratty mattress so that they wouldn't have to share the one that was already too small for one witcher alone. They fought daily over the one with less questionable stains. 

When business was closed, they could go downstairs. All the girls went home after work, except for Pinky and Elle. After throwing out the last customers and cleaning the used bedrooms, the younger woman made breakfast and they sat around a table together, talking about the witchers' newest observations or especially rowdy customers. Following breakfast, they would sometimes play a round of cards with high stakes, but mostly the women were tired enough to drop into bed immediately. 

It was during one of those mornings that Lambert finally wondered aloud how Aiden and Pinky had met. 

"I didn't tell you? I thought I had told you." 

The cat sat up straight and spread his arms as if to recount an epic tale.

"It was thirty-three years ago-"

"Thirty-seven," Pinky interrupted him without looking up, so tired that she could barely eat her eggs. 

Aiden took a deep breath and began anew. 

"It was thirty-seven years ago when a handsome witcher stepped into a high class establishment, looking for fine company, alas, the ladies there said-" he changed his voice into a ridiculously high pitch to cite the women. "- _we don't fuck witchers, witchers are the worst!_ But this strutting man didn't give up and he came upon a beautiful lady who often heard-" this time he lowered his voice to play the men. "- _we don't want hand jobs from a wench with just nine fingers, we want the full ten-fingers experience_. And I beseeched upon this angel full of grace. _Hey, I never had a nine-fingered hand job._ And she said-"

"I've never fucked a witcher, but with the lack of any other paying dick I'll make an exception," Pinky filled in for her own speaking role. 

"And she made that exception again and again and again. The end," Aiden concluded and made a little bow. 

"He came back so often, I feared he wanted to court me." 

"You were the only whore around for miles who was willing to let me have a go at it. One could say, I paid for this whole building. Speaking off the past, wouldn't you like to revive some memories," the witcher winked. 

"Pah," the madame of the house exclaimed. "I'd rather dig up the pig that bit me, cut open it's belly and choke on my little finger myself!"

"Another mystery solved," Lambert commented after having followed the conversation with a frown. He took a big gulp of his ale and regretted that he had even asked. 

"You fucked like a young blacksmith would work a piece of metal," Pinky explained at the incredious look on Aiden's face and beat her fist on the table in a rapid rhythm. "You hammered on and on without a pause. I am too old, my hips can't take it anymore!"

Lambert spit his ale over the table, while Aiden tried to put all the blame on the _potency._ Pinky refused to let him make it up to her, whereas poor Elle just tried to eat her breakfast in peace. 

After only a few days of this routine, Lambert's muscles began to twitch from the lack of strain. His body was used to moving a lot, majnly riding or walking and hunting food when he wasn't fighting monsters. He was aimlessly running in circles in their small room, when Aiden tackled him without a warning and the two had a wrestling match that left them both panting for breath and hurting in the way that only a good workout could manage. They were however interrupted by Pinky, who claimed that the only rowdy fucking allowed within her house was the kind that brought her profit, not caring for Lambert's spluttered explanations about them fighting instead of fucking. 

The next morning, Lambert brought the vial of _potency_ and a small pouch of coin down to the breakfast table. 

He leaned onto the stove next to Elle, who was busy frying vegetables, and wanted to ask her for a service. Before he could even open his mouth, Pinky spoke up. 

"Elle's been working all night long and now she is making breakfast for you." 

Lambert stood up straight and folded his arms in front of him, trying to seem indifferent. He only hoped that the old whore's eyes weren't good enough anymore to see his ears go red. 

"And?" he barked at her. 

Pinky glared back, having spend too much time of her life in the presence of Aiden to be intimidated by a witcher's inhuman eyes. 

"I am just praising how thoughtful it is of you to give her some coin for all the extra work she has with the two of you witchers." 

Working his jaw, he looked over at Aiden, who pretended to have suddenly turned deaf, and then grumbled in defeat. He let the vial disappear back inside his pocket and left the pouch lying on Elle's place at the table. 

"Thank you," Elle frowned after having witnessed the cryptic conversation. 

Lambert took a deep breath through his nose, before pressing a halfway decent answer through his teeth. 

"You're welcome." 

Not being able to keep silent any longer, Aiden giggled, but quickly yelped in pain when the other witcher's foot connected with his shin. 

The cat witcher had trouble of his own to keep his mood in check. Without much of a distraction, either his melancholy kept him silently sulking in a corner for hours or a burst of energy had him gracelessly flitting around the room, taking up all the space and making too much noise. Sometimes during those moments, when Aiden's racket became nearly unbearable, Lambert wished for him to sink beneath a veil of depression again, before remembering the haunted look upon the man's face during those times and then he feelt like the worst friend in the world for even considering this more favourable. 

But when he sat on top of the city at night, observing Berezo's home and fighting boredom and tiredness alike, he wished Aiden was with him, no matter in which mood. Being trapped in one room with the man was overwhelmingly stifling, but being without him felt like standing next to an endless void that drained Lambert faster of his energy, than the present of Aiden ever could. 

Salvation came in form of a whisper on the streets. Berezo's servants were hiring courtesans for another one of his infamous orgies. The plan Aiden came up with was as simple as it was stupid. 

"They'll recognize you in an instant." 

"Not if I disguise myself," Aiden countered with way too much cheer. 

"How? Whores usually don't wear enough to hide anything. And what do you want to do then? Fight a higher vampire in lingerie?" 

"They're wary about a _male_ witcher, right? They'll suspect something when one of us shows up, unless they think that I am a woman." 

Lambert guffawed at the ridiculous notion. 

"No one's gonna take you for a woman! You're way too tall."

"I can hunch over," the cat repelled Lambert's objection. "Maybe shave my face, only show some leg, you know, like those expensive whores."

"You're looking forward to this," the wolf witcher accused him with wide eyes. 

"I am looking forward to getting out of the attic, to finally making a move on Berezo," Aiden argued, throwing his hands up.

And yes, Lambert was tired of waiting around and doing fuck all, too, but he would never agree to this burning pile of shit that Aiden called a plan. 


	3. caught me cold and got me shaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the hunt for a higher vampire is on

They were actually following through with that burning pile of shit Aiden called a plan. 

Lambert had to watch the cat getting into the most uncomfortable looking positions to shave his legs, simply because Pinky had told him that his hair would catch on the stockings and he'd rather not be distracted by those little pinpricks. 

The madame brought him a pair of tights from her biggest worker and twitted Aiden for trying to put them on over his smallclothes. Grumbling, he undressed those, too, and then still struggled for minutes with the snug garment. 

Lambert was lying on the less stained mattress, howling with laughter, as he watched the other witcher fully dressed in his upper feline armor, but wearing nothing but see-through tights on his lower body, while his hands rummaged inside the front of said tights, trying to put his dick in a comfortable position. 

"You must be the most unattractive whore I have ever seen," Lambert cackled and got Aiden's trousers thrown at his head for the insult. 

Unperturbed, he rolled them up and stuffed them into his bag. 

"I got a pair of shoes from Big Milly from the docks, had to promise to pay for her new one." Pinky glanced pointedly down at Aiden's feet. "I guess they'll be ruined anyway after you crammed your paws in there. You wanna try them on? Practice walking with the heels?" 

"I know how to walk in heels," Aiden mumbled and accepted the shoes, quickly shoving them into Lambert's bag, too. 

"Hey, it was your idea. Let's do it properly and try on the heels," the wolf teased. 

"I know how to walk in heels!" Aiden hissed and put on his usual boots, which prompted a new wave of giggles from the other witcher. 

"Would you stop laughing?" 

"I'm sorry," Lambert snorted. "If we had a big enough mirror, you'd be laughing, too, 'cause you look ridiculous!" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the unsexiest person on the continent, I got it," the older witcher grumbled and ducked down to let Pinky apply some dark coal around his eyes. 

"Come on, Aiden," Lambert groaned and rolled his eyes. "That's not what I said. It's just the sight of your cock-" 

"My cock looks funny to you?!" 

Pinky harshly grabbed Aiden's chin to keep him from moving too much, to finish his makeup. 

" _No_ , your cock smothered inside those tights looks funny." 

"Lambert?" 

The wolf hummed a questioning tone. 

"Just shut your damn mouth," Aiden told him with a grimace and fastened a halflong cloak that ended at his thighs around his shoulders. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Pinky tried to reassure him. “You look good enough.” 

“Wow,” the cat breathed. “ _Funny cock_ and _good enough_ , thank you for the pep talk, now I’m confident that this plan will work.”

“I’m not,” Lambert piped up, but got to his feet and shouldered his bag anyway. “Let’s go. If we’re gonna die tonight, I’d rather get it over with.” 

After receiving a pouch full of coin from the witchers, Pinky wished them good luck and farewell, hugging Aiden and, to his surprise, Lambert, too. 

They climbed through the window, Lambert first so he wouldn’t have to look at Aiden’s testicles jammed together from behind, and took the usual way over the rooftops toward their observation spot near Berezo’s house. 

Sitting in the semi-darkness of the setting sun, they watched the servant entrance and waited for the first workers to arrive. 

Lambert inspected his weapons in the meantime, making sure that the oil on his silver sword was well applied. He checked the potions next, they were still all accounted for, every vial in its proper place. When he started fiddle with his armor, undoing and redoing the knots, Aiden hit a slack hand on his fingers. 

“Stop that, you’re making me nervous,” he scolded in a low voice. “Don’t worry, everything’s gonna work out fine.” 

Lambert gave him a scornful look before continuing to finger his armor.

“You want me to worry less, recite to me plan b again.”

“I had to repeat your stupid plan b a hundred times,” Aiden complained, yet stopped his nagging as he noticed movement in the street below. 

He leaned forward to get a better look at the back door. A slim figure with a hood over their head asked to be let inside.

They tuned in their senses and listened closely to the short conversation between the prostitute and the two guards. She told them a password, _Mettina Rosé_ , asked about her pay, _after the work’s done,_ and was let inside. 

“You see, human security, easy to deceive,” Aiden whispered and untied his boots. 

Lambert blew out a stream of air through his nose. He hated it when people would get sentimental on him, wanted to talk about their feelings as though words could ever be as genuine as any action, but it was a higher vampire they would face soon. The only thing he hated more than getting sentimental was having regrets. 

“Aiden,” he quietly called for the other man’s attention as he pulled the women’s shoes out of Lambert’s bag. “You’re my best friend.” 

The cat witcher eyed him curious. 

“Yeah, you’re mine, too. Why are you mentioning it? You got a friendship bracelet for me or something?” 

“Shut up, assholes, I am trying to tell you something,” Lambert grouched and clutched Aiden by his shoulder. “When I worry, it’s because I worry for you. I trust in you and I trust your plan, even though it’s fucking stupid. But I will always worry, because you're like a brother to me. Okay?” 

Aiden huffed, shrugged off Lambert's hand and turned his attention back to fastening the shoes on a strap on his armor. The lines around his eyes were strained and the other witcher was about to ask him what was wrong, when the next courtesan walked up to the servants’ entrance. 

She told the guards the same as the woman before and was quickly ushered inside. 

“Looks to be the same password for every whore,” Aiden mused and, staying low, he crawled to the side of the roof that lead down into a narrow alleyway, that was dark enough to move in without getting noticed. 

"Wait, Aiden," Lambert stopped him before he climbed over the ledge. "What did I say wrong?" 

"Nothing," the cat deflected, his eyes traveling everywhere except for his friend. "I should hurry." 

"Bullshit, the time frame is big enough to take a few minutes," the younger witcher pressed and ducked down to move closer. "You're brooding and I won't let you get in distracted. What was it I said?" 

After fighting with himself for a second, Aiden dropped his shoulders in defeat and nervously licked his lips. 

"It's just disappointing."

"What is? Use your fucking words, Aiden!" Lambert hissed in frustration. 

"That you think of me as a brother." 

The wolf recoiled, pulling his hand away from where it was resting on the other man's arm. 

Seeing the hurt in his friend's eyes, Aiden pushed away his own hesitations and tried to elaborate. 

"Because you said you would never fuck you brothers." 

Lambert froze in his place. His eyes slowly blinked while his mind was running in circles and his mouth gaped like that of a fish. 

"It means I want us to fuck," Aiden hissed impatiently. "Sorry for making things awkward." 

He moved to turn, but Lambert took hold of his shoulder and forced him back around, grabbing his face and pressing a teeth-clashing kiss to his mouth. 

As sudden as it came, it was over again and they were left staring at each other. 

"There," Lambert finally grunted. "I made it even more awkward." 

Aiden huffed out a silent laugh and gaped at the wolf's face in wonder, before regaining his composure. He tied his scarf over his broad smile, the garment covering his trimmed beard and his angular jaw, pulled the hood over his head and drawed his long curls forward to further distract from his face. 

With the high cheekbones and the dark makeup around his eyes, Lambert had to admit that he actually had a feminine touch to him. 

"Keep your eyes downcast," the wolf advised the other witcher. "They could reveal you too quickly." 

"See you inside," Aiden winked and swung himself over the ledge. 

"Pst," Lambert caught his attention once more, causing the cat to pause his decline and look up. "That was a shit timing for your declaration."

Aiden's eyes crinkled with happiness and he raised one hand to give a thumbs up. 

Smirking, Lambert responded with both hands hold out over the edge of the building, flipping Aiden off. 

He could see the cat's shoulders shake with restrained laughter, as he swiftly continued to climb down the side of the building. 

Silent as a shadow, Aiden turned his back to Berezo's house and hurried down the alleyway. As planned, he would walk around the block and approach the guards from the other side, giving Lambert a change to slip past their back. 

Lambert waited a moment before scrambling down the building himself. He felt like a pack mule carrying the heavy bag and his own swords as well as Aiden's. Creeping as far as he dared towards the alley's exit, he watched the servant's entrance. When the clicking of heels could be heard, he turned his head in unison with the guards toward the person coming down from the other side of the street. 

Aiden held his head low, making himself look smaller and seemingly cowed. His steps however were confident, walking in women's shoes an easy act for him, and the other witcher had to pry his eyes away from the cat's defined calves he had never paid any mind to before. 

"I'm here for a job," Lambert could hear Aiden mumble in an attentively adjusted voice and took the opportunity of the distracted guards, to cross the street and lunge himself over the garden wall. 

From this side of the building, he could make out the commotion coming from the main entrance and the noises of the gathering people indoors. In case of one of the guests needing some fresh air and taking a break outside, he hid in the shadow of some rose bushes. 

The first unrestrained moans from the beginning orgy reached his ears, when finally a window quietly opened on the upper floor and Aiden leaned outside. Using a climbing trellis as support, Lambert reached up and grasped the other witcher's hand. Despite the cat's slender frame, he had no problem to pull him up and help him through the window. 

The room they found themselves in seemed to be a private library. Lambert could makes out rows of books and tomes about vampires, fiction and non-fiction alike. The witcher wondered why a higher vampire would be interested in such inaccurate literature. Maybe it was amusing to him? 

A guard was lying motionless on the ground near the door. The wolf could see no blood so he figured that the man was simply unconscious. 

Aiden had already gotten rid of the heeled shoes and let the cloak drop from his shoulders next while Lambert pulled his boots and trousers out of the bag and handed the gear over. Taking off the tights took a little longer, but he managed without making a fool of himself. 

Standing half naked in the middle of the room, the cat witcher pulled the scarf from his face and frowned. 

"Where are my smallclothes?" 

"You didn't hand me those," the wolf replied unapologetically. 

"Fuck, Lambert!" Aiden bemoaned and waved his trousers in the other witcher's face. "You know how much these can chafe." 

"If it's so fatal, you can put on the tights underneath." 

"What do I even see in you," Aiden breathed to himself as he shuffled on his trousers and pushed his feet into his boot. 

Lambert kneeled down in front of him to help him buckle everything up, after all this time, he knew Aiden's gear as well as his own. 

"I don't know, is it my caring nature? My tender heart or my buoyant charm? Say stop when I got it right."

"Maybe it's because you look so pretty on your knees, little lamb," Aiden leered down at him and Lambert's ears went warm when he noticed the position he was in. "Good thing witchers don't get hard that quick, eh?" 

"Really, Aiden? Now? During the hunt of a higher vampire?" 

"I already told you that I would fuck you, what have I to lose?" 

"My respect," Lambert answered drily and finished fastening Aiden's boots. 

"Good to know that I had it in the first place," the cat witcher gloated and strapped on his swords, before they had to stop their banter and focus on the plan. 

The knocked out guard was gagged, tied up and hidden away under a chaise lounge together with Aiden's disguise, before they sneaked out into the corridor. Aiden turned them away from the staircase, that lead down to soft light and muted voices, and towards Berezo's private chamber. 

The hallway divided into two directions at the end and the witchers split up to check the surroundings. 

One room Lambert looked into was a small privy, unimportant, and the other one was a study. There were books about necromancy and demons, all topics badly researched, as well as medical volumes about human anatomy. He discarded the room as not bearing any potent danger to their plan as well. 

The last door on his side of the hallway was locked, so he went back to the study in hopes of finding a spare key. He found it inside an ornamented box in one of the desk's drawers and made a smug face when the key fit and turned inside the lock. 

Inside the room hang rows upon rows of clothes, robes and dresses alike, all made in the highest fashion, the styles befitting kings and queens. Yet when Lambert took a closer look and touched them, it was easy to tell that the fabric was cheap and the quality of the stitches low. In between were unusually short skirts and too low cut necklines. These were merely costumes. 

The pieces were worthless and apart from some blood stains that didn't wash out completely, though their significance could be argued away easily, there was nothing obvious in here that needed to be hidden away. 

Shoving the costumes to the side, Lambert examined the space behind them. He worked through the rows from one side of the room to the other, until he finally found a low hatch in the wall, barred with an iron bolt. It was removed without making any noise, must have been well cared for and often in use. Lambert cautiously opened the hatch and ducked down to peer inside. 

A pair of big brown eyes stared back from the darkness inside the confined hole in the wall. Lambert's mutated sight had no problem to adjust to the lack of light and was shocked to find a young girl huddling in the secret hideout. 

She was wearing one of the costumes, a violette princess' dress, and her arms and neck were carelessly bandaged. Her fingernails were bitten short and caked with dirt, her hair plastered against her forehead with sweat. She was frozen in place, regarding the witcher with fearful eyes and her heartbeat thrummed in Lambert's ears like a horse's gallop. He was shit at estimating the age of humans, but if the schools would still train witchers, Lambert was sure she would have been deemed too young for the first trial. 

He slowly raised a finger to his lips, hoping she would trust him or at least fear him enough to stay silent, and closed the hatch again. 

To keep Berezo from getting suspicious, he locked the room again and put the key back where he found it. 

Aiden waited for Lambert in the hallway, crouching between a high plant and a dresser covered with silver candlesticks, in case some guard or guest would walk past. 

He wordlessly signaled that everything was clear in the rooms he had checked by holding up his little finger and drawing it in a circle. They had once made up this sign system for all the times they had to stay quiet during a hunt, but still needed to communicate. 

Lambert cut his middle finger through the air, crossed his wrists in front of his chest and then held a hand up next to his hip. He pointed a finger to the door behind which the child was held captive. 

Pointing at his own eyes and then at Lambert's face, Aiden questioned if the witness had seen the wolf's face. 

The younger witcher nodded his head, which prompted the cat to pull out his dagger and walk into the direction of the unknown obstacle, that could put their hunt in jeopardy. His way was blocked by his partner, who shoved him back and pushed down his hand holding the weapon. 

They regarded each other for a moment, Lambert trying to get across that the girl won't make any trouble, while Aiden called him a naive jackass with simply the heat in his eyes. Finally, the cat patted the top of his own head and then pointed at his friend. 

_It'll be on your head._

It was as good as an _I trust you_ and Lambert mouthed a soundless _thank you_. 

Aiden indicated him to follow and they creeped into a large room with a four-poster bed, a plush carpet, different wardrobes and a vanity decked with bottles and boxes full of perfume and makeup. The door was gently closed, before Aiden started a whispered conversation. 

"If the captive informs the guards or Berezo in any way-" 

"She won't, trust me." 

"Fuck," the cat breathed heavily. 

Lambert shortly swept the room with his eyes, making himself familiar with the fighting ground. Behind the glass doors on the other side of the room was a balcony that would make for a good escape, they needed to watch out that Berezo wouldn't fly away through this exit. 

"Something's not adding up here," Aiden pondered and guided Lambert's attention towards the bed, specifically towards a large mirror hanging on the wall above it. 

"For human lovers, maybe? There are humans down at the orgy," Lambert pondered. 

He took out the _tawny owl_ potion from his bag and threw it at the other witcher, the cat catching it effortlessly, then pulled out _black blood_ for himself. Aiden's agile fighting style would hopefully keep him from getting bitten and the potion would help him cast Yrden stronger and more frequently to keep Berezo from escaping or use Igni to further weaken him, whereas the _black blood_ would poison the vampire should he manage to sink his teeth into Lambert. 

"I would feel better if we had figured out Berezo's special talent." 

"Maybe he doesn't have one?"

"Don't be stupid," the wolf witcher admonished his hunting partner. "Every higher vampire has a unique set of skills. That's what makes it so fucking hard to fight them. Let's just hope his skill is something useless, like talking to birds."

"You gonna eat those words when he unleashes a seagull's wrath upon you," Aiden argued and stepped into position behind the door. 

Lambert hid himself behind the bed's curtain and settled for a long wait by closing his eyes, straining his other senses and settling his mind into a simple

meditation. 

He couldn't say how much time had went by, when they heard movement in the corridor. One set of feet, stumbling, probably drunk? The medallion didn't humm, but it never did with higher vampires, which made it so difficult to distinguish them from humans. If they didn't want to be detected, they could stay unnoticed even in front of a witcher. 

It was better to be safe than sorry, so Lambert downed the _black blood_ and casted a simple Quen as an extra layer for protection. 

The door the bed chamber was pushed open and the wolf rushed forward the same moment Yrden filled the room with a purple glow. He pulled out his silver sword and hacked at the arm that stretched out towards him, not needing to know what kind of attack Berezo wanted to counter with and immediately jumped back out of reach into a defensive stand. 

But instead of lashing out, Berezo fell to his knees with a choked off cry, holding his right arm above the elbow, where the rest has been cleanly cut off. 

Kicking the door shut in the hopes that the guards would think of the noise as Berezo's drunken clumsiness, Lambert shot out his sword to stop Aiden's attack, who ducked and rolled out of the wolf's reach, getting into a defensive stance himself. 

" _Fuck_ ," the older witcher spat and his wide dark eyes darted between his friend and Berezo. 

Lambert raised his hands in a calming gesture, slowly putting away his sword. 

"Aiden, look at him," he gestured at Berezo who was now lying on his back, whimpering and pleading for his life. "That's no higher vampire." 

"It's a trick," Aiden insisted and didn't lower his weapon. "It's his talent. He'll kill us as soon as we deem him undangerous." 

Stepping over the crying man on the ground, Lambert picked up the cut off limb and waved the slack hand at Aiden, fresh blood dripping from the arm onto the floor. 

The potion was burning through his veins, itching under his skin, and the spike of adrenaline demanded a physical fight. He knew his friend felt the same current running underneath his skin, his mutations from the school of the cat probably even amplified this impelling feeling, but this was not the moment to indulge it. 

"Does this look like it's regenerating? Does he look like anything more than a miserable piece of shit to you?" 

Breathing heavily, Aiden didn't sheath his weapon as he stepped up to Berezo and gripped him by they graying hair on his head. He pulled their sniveling contract over to the vanity and pushed him into the chair in front of it. The rich man's blotchy face reflected back from the makeup mirror. 

"What are you?" Aiden interrogated him with his sword against his neck. 

"I'm Nikael Berezo," the man blubbert out, tears and snot mixed on his upper lip and snot ran down his chin. He held onto his stump of an arm, his eyes pinned to the place where his lower arm used to be, but now only a constant flow of red blood oozed out onto his richly adorned robes. 

"No, _what_ are you?" 

The cat witcher was getting angry and impatient, Lambert stepped closer in case his friend did something he later would regret. 

He wrinkled his nose at the smell of ammonia, obviously the all powerful Berezo had pissed himself over getting face to face with two witchers. Nonchalantly, he studied the severed body part in his hand, then lashed out all of the sudden to slap it through its previous owner's face. 

Berezo yelped, even though the hit couldn't have hurt much, given the yielding limp wrist, but it did what it was supposed to and woke the man out of his stupor. 

"What are you?" he repeated Aiden's question. 

"I am human, I'm a human man! Please, I give you Everything, I am rich, take what you want, but please," Berezo continued to cry. 

"We have a contract on you, a higher vampire," the wolf announced with a steady voice, causing another sobbing to rattle Berezo's body. 

"It's just a game, a fetish. Please, it's not just me, there are many people who pretend to be vampires. My guests, my customers, it's not just me, they all drink blood now and then-" 

"Speaking of," Aiden interrupted his begging. "I saw your donors." 

"I'm human," Berezo changed tactics again. "Please, I'm not a monster! Witchers only kill monsters, right? I'm not a vampire! I'm no monster, I'm human!" 

"Fuck," Aiden stressed once more, stepping back and murmuring to himself. "I don't take contracts on humans." He looked over at Lambert, his eyes pleading. "I don't do that anymore, I don't take contracts on humans."

Lambert considered the pathetic picture Berezo made and thought about the frightened girl in the wall, remembered the bandages on her arms and the spots of dried blood on the costume she's been dressed in. 

"No, you don't," he confirmed calmly. "This is a monster." 

He tossed the forearm at its owner, who tried to clutch it, but his shaking hand wouldn't comply and the limb slipped of his lap onto the ground. The false vampire wept as he eyed his lost body part at his feet, but didn't dare to bend over and pick it up. 

Taking the steel sword from his back, the wolf stalked towards his prey. Berezo screamed out for mercy, for help, for his guards, until his head was parted from his neck with one single solid stroke and dropped with a thump unto the carpet, a pool of blood quickly gathering beneath it. The remaining body slumped back in the chair and they could smell the bowels slacken and releasing their contents. Missing half an arm and its head, the corpse was not in the least as impressive as the dark whispers about the higher vampire and lord of the underworld Nikael Berezo. 

The witcher picked up the head by an ear and stuffed it into the trophy bag they had brought for the completion of the contract. 

An uproar could be heard from below, the guards must have been roused by Berezo's shouting. 

"Quick," Lambert seized his friend by his sleeve towards the balcony doors, but Aiden wouldn't budge. 

"The girl," he interjected and yanked at Lambert's collar in turn. "They'll interrogate her and then kill her anyway. We should take her out before she can say anything."

The wolf's gut instinct leaped out. 

"No," he declared, but moved willingly into the direction the cat was pulling him. "No, we're taking her with us."

They dashed through the bedroom door and down the hall. Guards were already coming up the stairs and hurrying into their direction. 

Lambert used the pommel of his sword to break the lock and they rushed into the costume storage. He slammed it shut and cast Quen again to build a barrier that would keep the attackers outside. 

"Our chances are better without her," Aiden reasoned, while throwing aside the arrayed dresses to get to the wall Lambert had pointed out to him. 

Blows were forced against the door from outside, but the sign held and threw the guards back. Someone in the hallway gave the order to call for the city watch. 

"You wanted someone who would make the right choices," the wolf witcher reminded his partner firmly. “This is me making a choice, my choice is to let her live."

With a groan, Aiden pointedly put away his weapon and opened the hatch. He kneeled down and and attempted to look as non-threatening as possible with the black eyes and the dark veins on his face, caused by the poisonous ingredients of the witcher's potion. 

"It's okay," he soothed the girl, who scrambled back in her hole in fear. "We're here to save you. We are, uh-" 

He looked at Lambert for help, the wolf however was busy pressing his whole body weight against the door. The blade of an axe crushed through the wood next to his head, causing him to curse at the older witcher to hurry. 

Aiden leaned back into the hole and reached a tentative hand inside. 

“I’m Ernest from the school of the kitten and this is Bert from the school of the lamb.”

Behind him, Lambert groaned in annoyance, but the cat didn't let it distract him. 

"Bert is a little grumpy, because we have to get out of here quickly before the bad guys get us."

The child stared at him still frozen in place, tears filling her eyes. 

"You don't want the bad men to hurt you, right? We will protect you." 

Her voice sounded hoarse from crying when she spoke. 

"Did you kill the man who bit me? Did you make him dead?" 

"Yes," Aiden hushed. "He won't hurt you anymore." 

She nodded to herself and finally crawled out of the hole and into Aiden's arms. 

He shuffled her onto his hip, supporting her with one arm while keeping his other hand free to fight. 

"The room right opposite of this one, the office, it's got a window we can escape through," Lambert breathlessly informed his partner, then jumped aside as Aiden told him to get out of the way. 

The cat threw Aard at the halfway bashed in door, blowing it off the hinges and shoving back their attackers. He used the guards' befuddlement to slip past their rows and into the opposite room. 

Lambert was close on his heels, watching Aiden's back and parrying the swords that were slashed at them. The attacks came to quick and he had to stop and turn to take a proper defensive stance. He could hear Aiden behind him casting Aard once more to blast out the windows instead of losing time by stopping and opening them. 

The wolf remained in the doorway, the narrow space keeping his opponents from attacking him all at once or getting behind his back. He had used a lot of his power to barricade the other door and had to regain some magical strength, before he could cast a shield and flee from the onslaught without getting hurt in the process. 

With Aiden and the kid to protect, he didn't play around. His strikes with his sword were precise and perilous. He sliced off a hand that came to close, ducked low and cut down a man by chopping off his leg. 

Another guard towered above him and wanted to hack his sword into Lambert's head. The wolf raised his weapon to deflect the assault, but before the man could execute the stroke, a blade was stabbed into the back of his head and came out front right beneath his left eye. 

Blood splattered into the witcher's face and he had to blink rapidly to clear his vision. For a short moment he could see the face of the guard who had come to his aid, before the man turned onto his next comrade-in-arms. His mouth was slack and his eyes unfocused, obvious signs that he was under the influence of Axii. Lambert hadn't cast the sign, that only left one explanation. 

He turned and sure enough there was Aiden still perched on the windowsill, the girl clinging to his chest. 

"Get the fuck out!" Lambert yelled at them and in the short moment of inattention, he could feel a sharp pain cutting into the side of his hip, striking the sliver of a vulnerable opening in his armor right between the thick material of his trousers and his sturdy leather jacket. 

The witcher moved reflexively and disemboweled his assailant. The intestines fell with a wet sound at his feet as he pulled his blade out of the man's guts and parried the next incoming sword. 

Stabbing another guard through his chest and then kicking the dying body back, Lambert used the short instant, in which no one charged at him, to sign Quen, turn on his heels and dash towards the destroyed windows. 

Seeing him coming, Aiden jumped from the ledge, the girl protectively cradled in his arms, moving out of harm's way just in time. Another guard had followed Lambert close enough and brought his steel axe down onto his shoulder. The magic shield exploded in blinding light and knocked the guard back, while simultaneously throwing Lambert forward through the window. 

He landed one storey lower in the mud of Novigrad's streets.

His face burnt where his skin has been scratched open by the rough pavement and his arm felt heavy and numb. It was probably broken, the adrenaline keeping his brain from recognising the pain yet. 

Before he was even done groaning in discomfort, he was janked up by the back of his jacket. 

"Can you walk?" Aiden pressed and instead of answering, Lambert bit the inside of his cheek and pushed forward.

The dark of night was already receding and it wouldn't take much longer until the sun peeked over the rooftops of Novigrad. 

The group took different turnings and used the shadows of cramped alleyways to stay out of sight. The cat ran nearly silently and barely jostled the child in his arms, while the other witcher limped behind him, trying to keep up as good as he could. 

The armor of the guards on their trail clanked loudly and it was easy to discern how far behind Berezo's personal security and the city watch were. Having lost their trace, the persuers split up at last and the witchers could hear patrols shuffling through the streets all around them. 

The sewer they were aiming for was a narrow manhole, only big enough for one person after the other to get through. Lambert went down first, leaving his bag and the trophy behind to fit through the hole and catching them after having reached the bottom of the ladder. The girl was next and Aiden followed close behind, closing the cover of the sewer above him. Everything went much slower than they would have liked, Lambert having problems with his broken arm and the young girl being unpracticed in climbing. 

Knowing the grid of the sewers from his past as an assassin, Aiden steered them easily through the canalisation. The city above may had changed its face in the past decades, but deep bellow it had stayed the same. He also had to take care of any loitering necrophages, Lambert with his injuries only stepping when it was strictly necessary. 

They sloshed through the labyrinth filled with mud and shit for about half an hour, before deeming it safe to take a break. The child was tired and frightened and silent tears ran down her sunken cheeks. Lambert was drained as well, his body already using up its energy for the healing process. His leg felt warm and wet with the blood weeping out of the wound on his hip. Aiden had him lean back against a moist wall for support and examined the gash. 

"A clean cut down to the bone, but nothing of import is damaged."

Undressing his belt, Lambert took the band of leather into his mouth to bite down onto, at the same time bunching up the clothes in his fists as he held them out of the way for Aiden to disinfect the wound. The cat used rough stitches with thread and needle to keep the flesh together, the urgency of their situation leaving no time for better care. 

The broken arm was focused on next. With one sudden pull, the older witcher realigned the bones and tightly bound them in place. 

"Sadly, there is nothing I can do about your face," Aiden sighed while Lambert fastened his belt again. 

The wolf waved him off. 

"It's just scratches." 

"Oh no, not that," his friend amended and made a vague gesture at Lambert's face. "I mean the whole ugly mug thing." 

"Aw, you'd really fuck me for my charming personality and not my outer appearance, you sappy pussy," Lambert drawled before he chugged a vial of _swallow._

"You wish, bitch," the other witcher grinned as he kneeled down to inspect the bandages around the little girls arms and neck. 

Scattered beneath the dressing was a panopticon of teeth marks. Some had only left bruises, other had broken skin and were caked with dry blood. 

Lambert's breath caught in his throat at the sight of them. 

"If I hadn't already killed that sick son of a whore," he swore appalled. 

The child had seen uglier things in the world already, a few chosen cus words wouldn't tear away her innocence. 

Aiden took the time to spread human friendly ointment onto the damage and carefully bandaged everything up again. They managed to coax out her name in the meantime, Ria, and a vague description of her home town, a place by the sea with a small port for the fishermen. 

When all injuries had been taken care of, they continued their way toward the exit where the waste water poured into the ocean. 

After the darkness, the sun rising over the sparkling water was nearly blinding. 

The cat witcher looked down the cliffs and at the waves pounding against them. 

"Are you still sure you can make that jump? You're not in the best shape right now."

"I don't know," Lambert replied and pointedly looked up the rock wall towards the bridge, the way which Aiden had planned to climb towards escape. "You've got extra weight now, will _you_ make it?" 

His smile dimmed and he leaned closer to the other man to not let Ria hear his words. 

“You’re not throwing her off the cliff the moment I'm out of sight, right?” 

"Right, I'm carrying 40 pounds through Novigrad with the city town on my heels just to spare your feelings," Aiden snubbed. "The fuck do you think? If I wanted her dead I would have killed her at Berezo’s house.”

"Just making sure," Lambert retorted and watched Ria twine around Aiden's back, the witcher securing her by tying her with a belt to his back. 

"Alright, this is it," the cat hummed and lucked his lips. 

They looked at each other for a moment. The job was done, the worst part over. Still they couldn't be sure that they would see each other again. 

Lambert hesitated. How does one say goodbye to his best friend who had told him only a few hours prior that he wanted more? Did he go in for a friendly hug or would that dissapoint expectations? Should he kiss Aiden again or would that led to the other man making fun of him for being too sentimental? He wished he could estimate Aiden's feelings by listening to his pulse or smelling his scent, but the waves and the wind were too fucking loud and he could smell nothing but shit since they entered these damn sewers. 

Lambert hesitated too long and Aiden turned away, strong muscles straining as he climbed over the edge of the large waste pipe and along the cliffs. 

"Good luck, Aiden!" Lambert shouted after him. 

The other man paused and carefully turned his head around. 

"You, too, little lamb" he winked and then continued on his way. 

Lambert pried his eyes from his friend's retreating form, tucked his arms close to his body and plummeted down into the ocean. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at work, so the next chapter will take a little longer to update, please be patient


	4. it's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet up and make out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -please no comments about correct science, I never embalmed a corpse, I never improvised lube, I skimmed wiki for most stuff, but always came to the conclusion that this is fiction and I can do what I want 
> 
> -I don't know the name of Lambert's horse and at this point I am to afraid to ask if he even has one 
> 
> -I have been an utter fool, I keep saying Witchers can't blush because of their slow pulse and can't get hard as quick, but I've been letting Lambert's ears turn red in every fucking chapter!!! >:( please ignore my accidental contradictions 

East of Oxenfurt was a forest full of abandoned elven ruins. Scholars used to be all over the historical site, studying stones and shit, Lambert didn't care much for what they actually did, only that after a few expeditions into the deeper parts of the ruins with no one coming back out, the humans gave up on exploring the old elven temple's secrets. The people living nearby avoided the place like the plague, saying it was haunted, and they were right. 

The Witcher had to kill a few wraiths before he could peacefully sit down on top of one of the higher stone pillars from where he could easily see someone approaching. 

When he had fetched his horse, Aiden's mare was still on the farmer's field. Therefore Lambert had ridden unhurried towards their meeting place, knowing he would easily make it within their agreed upon time frame and part of him hoping that his friend would catch up with him earlier. 

He looked forward to seeing him again, yet dreaded the encounter at the same time. His last interactions with Aiden kept replaying inside of his head. There was still no satisfying answer to the question if he should have kissed the other Witcher goodbye or said some words of affection. There was no way of knowing yet if his inaction was a mistake that would taint their relationship or if he saved his friendship by not mentioning the one shared kiss any further. What if Aiden had been talking about fucking and nothing more? And Lambert had made an ass of himself by giving him a peck on the lips like some coy virgin. It was just that the mere suggestion of _more_ had opened doors that had previously been sealed close, blocked up and barricaded. Now, longing was pushing its way inside along with wishful thinking and, for fucks sake, feelings. He didn't want to keep up false hope, there were no happy endings in store for a Witcher, he knew that much, yet the eager excitement persisted. 

He waited for half an hour before getting restless, continuingly failing to lose himself into a meditation. Frustrated with himself, he remembered a technique Aiden had once shown him. It was for those days when one's mind refused to calm down and the effort to clear it lay in creating a point of focus that refused to be ignored. 

He took out the needle from his medical kit, made sure it was clean and sat down into a comfortable position, his hands laying in his lap. One deep breath in, one slow breath out, and then an unignorable pain as the needle is slowly pricked into the flesh underneath his fingernail. His focus was on the throbbing sting for three hours. At one point he didn't even feel it anymore, only noticed the wrongness of something foreign piercing his skin.

Twilight was mystifying the ancient side even more when he gave up on meditating, if one could even call the School of Cat's masochistic ways of calming down a meditation. He had to stop, because it was about time to make a decision between staying longer in hope that Aiden was just running late and thinking of his own wellbeing by setting off towards someplace safer. 

Within the next hour, Lambert had set up camp beneath a solid alcove. The fire he lit was small, barely big enough to roast the squirrel over, but he didn't feel like fighting off any wild animals or sophomoric bandits that could be drawn to the light. He ate the scanty mead with some stale bread from the deeps of his saddle bags. 

The leftover carcass was buried beneath the embers of the extinguished fire, except for the bushy tail. Lambert put this aside for later, Aiden would probably scream like a little girl when he woke up with that inside of his bed roll. 

Sleep wouldn't come easy and he pondered if he should jerk off to tire himself out, but he still hadn't come around to produce more _potency_ and he didn't want to waste the last vial for a quick wank with his hand. 

He woke often during the night, his sleep befuddled mind mistaking a forest animal passing by for a man's footsteps. There were only two incidents when he had to defend himself, once when another wraith emerged from the deeper parts of the ruins and another time when a lone wolf came sniffing around the camp. The animal was easy enough to scare away and the wraith was defeated within minutes, but the uneasy feeling at the back of his neck stayed. 

When he rose with the sun at dawn, he felt weary and unsettled. 

It was undeniable in the harsh light of day, Aiden wasn't coming and waiting any longer would be futile. A Witcher had to think of his own interests first and foremost, otherwise he would soon be dead, and he couldn't stay too long in one place especially not one as hostile as this. 

He packed up his stuff, his eyes stopping on the squirrel's tail as he rolled up his bedding. For a moment he imagined bugging Aiden with it, sticking it down the back of his friend's shirt and watching him bend and twist to get it out. Then he cursed his infantile optimism and left the tail behind. 

As he rode west, he thought about what to do with the severed head. Anticipating that it would take some time before they could present the trophy to the contract giver, the Witcher had used salt and strong alcohol to keep off its decay a little longer, adding juniper and thyme to the sack to diminish the smell. Nevertheless, the stank was pungent in his nose whenever a breeze would pick up. 

He didn't know who the contract giver was, wouldn't get paid without Aiden's information, and therefore the trophy was no use to him. Yet, he couldn't just burn it. It was Aiden's job and it was his right to decide what should be done with Berezo's head. 

After half a day, Lambert reached Mulbrydale. He tied his horse to a pole in front of the tavern and scared off the stable boy, who offered to situate the stallion at the local inn's stable. Instead he tended to the animal himself and saved himself the coin. 

At the tavern he moved straight towards the bar and ordered a beer, downing it in one go and earning himself a worried look from the barman. 

Rightfully so, Lambert's fingers were twitching around the tankard and his jaw was tense. There was a suspense deep within his muscles that called for movement. He could use a good fight about now, but there was nothing of interest on the notice board and he would rather sleep at the inn tonight than being thrown out of town for starting a brawl at the marketplace. His next best options were getting deliriously drunk and ramming his dick into some willing wet hole. 

He ordered another beer, but the tavern owner hesitated. 

"You're not gonna give us any problems, will you?" the man asked cautiously, eyeing the two swords on the Witcher's back. 

"Don't piss yourself," Lambert retorted. "Tonight I just wanna drink and fuck. So, either bend over or give me another damn beer." 

Still reluctant, the sweating man filled up the tankard. 

The Witcher took a sip and wiped a hand over his mouth, before speaking again.

"Are there any strumpets in this town? Or some young widow who'd whore out herself?" 

"No," the barman mused. He scrutinized his customer who reeked of trouble once more, his gaze catching on Lambert's purse.

The young Witcher didn't have a paying contract since meeting Aiden, but he didn't have time to spend much money either. The pouch seemed to hold enough crowns for a greedy man to get glistening eyes. 

As expected, the barman came up with a bargain.

"If you got coin, I got two daughters. You pay fifteen crowns up front. If the girl gets hurt, you pay more."

"Sure, why not," Lambert shrugged and unfastened the complicated knot that tied the pouch to his belt. 

"You want big tits or a pretty face?" 

"I don't care as long as she's washed." 

He stacked the money on the bar and picked up his tankard again. 

"I'll fetch Zenida, you can wait upstairs in the second room to the right."

The owner reached out his hand to grasp the money, just when the door of the tavern opened and a mixture of well-known smells hit Lambert's nose. 

Cypress, orchid and sandalwood beneath worn leather and the stench of horses. But most pregnantly the scent of salt and iron. Sweat and blood. 

A sudden wave of worry constrained his heart and he found the unexpected struggle to breath to be a pleasant side effect, for he didn't have to endure that smell anymore. His complete moron of a best friend went and got himself injured, badly judging by the amount of blood. 

Dreading what he would find, yet thinking it best to tackle problems before they could get worse, he looked over to the open entrance. 

Aiden leaned against the doorframe, one hand pressed against his side, right beneath his ribs. Blood soaked from between his fingers and fell onto the floor, the drops glistening like little rubies. He gave the Wolf Witcher a tired, lopsided smile. 

Pushing away his anxiety with the help of stimulating anger, Lambert steeled himself to concentrate his thoughts on helping Aiden. 

"Change of plans," he grumbled to the tavern owner. "I'll have only the room, send your girls upstairs with a bucket of clean water."

"Hold it, this is not the deal," the man complained. "This is not a Witcher lazaret!" 

"I'm not asking." 

Lambert took a last big swig from the beer, licked the foam from his upper lip and stomped over to the Cat Witcher. 

"Move it, you're bleeding all over the place," he groused at Aiden and steadied him with an arm around his shoulder to steer him upstairs. 

"I saw your horse," Aiden panted between ragged breath. The man couldn't even stand on his own feet without swaying to an alarming grade. 

The room was less of a room and more of a closet in which the the tavern owner had thrown an unevenly stuffed straw mattress onto the ground. Lambert was obviously not the first to have been offered a daughter. 

Aiden dropped onto the mattress with a grunt, adding new stains to it, and Lambert examined the dark wet patch on his side. He removed his own gloves, then carefully undressed the Cat's top, the light armor was in dire need of mending and the shirt was a lost case altogether. The wound beneath looked gruesome and smelled even worse. 

"Shortsword," Aiden explained plainly. 

"Did you take anything?" 

" _White Raffard's_." 

Lambert gritted his teeth and shoved his anger aside. The decoction should have taken care of the wound, unless the gash had been even worse before and the Witchers' medicine had already done its best. It also meant that he couldn't just pour another healing potion down Aidan's throat, unsure of how high the levels of toxicity in his body already were. 

He pulled out a vial of _White Honey_ and had the injured Cat drink it. It would take a little while before it would bind the toxins and flush them out of Aiden's body, but it would speed up the process a bit. 

A young woman came inside, thin as a stick, with an upturned nose and big blue eyes. She carried a bucket, the water in it sloshing softly, and paused when she saw the state of the cat Witcher's torso. 

"Is there something else I can do?" she asked obviously cowed but still wanting to help. 

"Some food. And make sure that no one comes up to bother us," Lambert snarled at her and ripped Aiden's already tattered shirt into pieces while she hurried out. 

"I'd be balls deep in her right now if you hadn't barged in," he muttered in annoyance. 

"Nah," Aiden hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Hips look more frail than Pinky's, you'd have crushed her." 

Lambert didn't think about how right Aiden probably was, the restless energy beneath his skin was still buzzing through his body, but he tried to focus it into fixing his friend's side and suspended the yelling and fighting for when Aiden was alright again.

He used the less filthy parts of the cloth to clean around the slash wound, then brought out the pure alcohol to disinfect it, while Aiden bit down on his own arm hard enough to break skin. 

"Aiden, don't," Lambert admonished him, throwing a bloodstained rag at his face. "I've got enough to patch up already." 

"Hurts," the Cat Witcher continued to give curt answers, but stopped with the self violation and started gathering the droplets of fresh blood with his tongue. 

"You don't say, pussy," the Wolf patronised him. "And stop licking everything, you disgusting fuck!" 

He took one of his leather gloves and shoved it between the half-delirious Witcher's teeth. 

Aiden hummed a muffled complain that turned into a moan when Lambert stuck his washed fingers into his wound to get a better understanding of the size of it.

"Seems like your liver's been punctured. That explains the amount of blood and why you're so befogged. Your body's got problems to get rid of the poisonous effect of the decoction on it's own."

"Hng," Aiden adds helpfully. 

"You're lucky, the liver's as persistent as a weed, it'll be grown back to normal in no time."

Lambert prepares the needle and the string made out of horse guts and starts with the cumbersome work of suturing muscles and skin. His patient let his head drop back against the mattress, covering his face with his hands and making choked off sounds. 

Meanwhile, the woman returned with the previous day's leftover bread, took one look at the Witcher's steady hands working the needle through rosy flesh and dropped the loaf close to them to shuffle as quick as possible back out of the room. 

When Lambert finally tied off the end of the last stitches with a tiny knot, they were both sweating profusely. 

"Hey, you with me?" Lambert roused his friend with a calculated jab of his finger against the fresh stitch. 

Aiden jerked and spit out the glove to curse the Wolf to hell and back. 

"We'll have to watch for haematoma, but you should be okay," Lambert declared with a grim look and pulled Aiden into a sitting position to wrap the bandages around his torso. 

"You're making a face as if you rather have it kill me," Aiden commented with a strained voice. 

"I'll kill you myself if you don't tell me what the fuck happened."

"Got into an ambush just out of Novigrad. Someone must have ratted me out."

"You think that maybe Pinky or one of her girls-," Lambert let the question phase out at seeing the glare the other man was giving him. 

"You wanna catch these hands?" Aiden threatened and battered his hands weakly into Lambert's general direction, who just trapped them between his own, simply to keep the Cat from hurting himself. 

"I've got a good idea whose fault this is," Aiden continued with his eyes closed, too tired out by his body healing to stay awake for much longer. "I had contacted my client to tell him the job was done and we'd soon come to claim the reward. Guess he wanted to get rid of me as a witness and save some coin at the same time."

Grunting with irritation, Lambert fished his spare shirt out of his bag and threw it over Aiden's head. The man had trouble to pull it on without jostling his injury to much, but managed with a little help. 

They shared the bread, its crust was hard and its taste stale, but it was food, which was always good enough for Witchers. Lambert had more questions, yet in his tired state, Aiden gave only unsatisfying half answers. 

" 'M sorry," he hummed, his head hanging low and swaying where he sat. 

"It's not your fault that you got stabbed," Lambert growled, then revoked his statement with his next breath. "Well, actually it is, I thought you were too quick to just get stabbed like that." 

"No, not that- sorry for not coming to our meeting spot, I was a coward." 

The words didn't make immediate sense to Lambert and he didn't want to examine them too closely either. 

"Sleep a bit," he told the other man instead and pushed him back down onto the mattress. "You'll heal quicker with some rest."

Exhausted as he was, Aiden went willingly and soon enough his breathing had evened out and he was fast asleep. 

Lambert sat next to him, taking the Cat Witcher's sword in hand. There was nothing he could do about the rip in the armor, but he could care for his friend's swords, prepare them them for the next fight. 

About an hour later, there was a knock and the door opened with a creak. 

Aiden shot up and groped for a weapon that was still in Lambert's hands. The sudden pain in his side however stopped him. 

The tavern owner's daughter shrieked and took a startled step back, but remained in the doorway. 

"Father says your times up. You have to pay more or leave," she stuttered nervously. 

"He's gotta come in here and tell me so himself," Lambert answered calmly without stopping the repetitive motion of polishing the Cat Witcher's steel sword, perfectly knowing how threatening that little gesture was. 

He nearly growled when Aiden carefully stood and gathered their things. 

"You heard the lass. Time's up." 

"No, you're not fully healed yet and I paid a lot without even fucking her. We'll keep the room for the rest of the night."

"Lambert," the Cat Witcher hissed. "Stop bitching and move." 

Grumbling, the Wolf pushed the swords at their owner and picked up his own stuff. 

Aiden steered Lambert out of the tavern, making sure to divert the other Witcher's attention when they passed the owner. 

The sun outside had just dipped behind the horizon, leaving the sky in a soft darkness of deep blue and soft purple. 

Aiden groused about the state of his saddle, the dried blood clinging in flakes to the leather, as they mounted their horses. 

"You still got the trophy?" he asked after Lambert wanted to know where the fuck they would go now. 

The Wolf Witcher waved at the bag fastened to his saddle that attracted quite a few flies. "Don't you smell that?" 

"Oh, I thought that was you."

"I just patched you up, but I swear, keep talking shit and I'll fuck you up again." 

"So testy," Aiden teased with a crooked grin, then relented at Lambert's stormy expression. "Let's ride towards my employer and get our reward." 

Pointing his mare north, he led them out of Mulbrydale. 

They rode at a reasonably pace, the whole time looking out for a good place to spend the night. Whenever his horse made a too quick movement, Aiden's suppressed a grimace. It didn't stop Lambert from noticing his discomfort and the Wolf obliged him to take another _swallow_ , now that the toxic effects of the previous potions were gone. 

"Finally care to share what happened?" Lambert inquired. "Who stabbed you and what happened to Ria?" 

"Ria's with Pinky," the Cat Witcher was quick to inform him. "We got her a change of clothes and a haircut, then I send her through the Tretogor Gate back into the city. Pinky's gonna take care of her and Elle could use the extra help. I was about to leave Farcorners when they attacked."

"Who were they?" 

"Just some of Berezo's friends. They would have been no trouble at all, had not the Order of the Flaming Rose intervened to fight the sinning wannabe vampires themselves. And you know those witch hunters, they are attracted to blood like flies to a pile of shit and came as soon as the first man was down. But just a few days prior they must have pestered the dwarves and halflings living in Farcorners, because the next moment half the gang of the Crownsplitters arrived. It was like a godsdamn battlefield in the middle of the streets. I used the chaos of the fight to flee, but not without gaining this souvenir." 

He pointed down at his slashed side. 

"Do you recall who did it? A soldier of the Flaming Rose or a vampire fetishist?" 

"I was distracted and someone got a lucky strike. Why does it matter who?"

"So we can repay the favor next time we see them," Lambert pointed out the obvious. 

"I get stabbed once and he wants to go on a quest for revenge," Aiden smiled. "You're adorable, little lamb, but please leave the act of vengeance for when I'm actually dead."

"That's not the same," the Wolf waved him off. "Revenge is only fun if you can share it with a friend."

"What, are simple monster hunts not good enough for you anymore?" 

"That contract was no simple monster hunt, it was just as much secrecy bullshit and hiding in the sewers as I had expected and you owe me for that." 

"Oh, please," Aiden rolled his eyes. "My plan to get inside had worked perfectly after all and we didn't even need your stupid plan B. Everything went fine in the end."

"You got stabbed," Lambert said matter-of-factly.

"And you stitched me back together," the Cat grinned way too cheerfully. "As I said, everything went fine in the end."

Lambert shook his head at Aiden's antics, but couldn't keep from grinning himself, glad to have his friend alive by his side again.

After sharing a few minutes of companionable silence, the Cat Witcher turned sober for a moment. 

"But not killing Ria, that was a good call. Did I thank you for that, yet?" 

"Well, duh," Lambert demeaned himself to say. "You always jump back to what they have taught you at your school of feline assassination whenever you're on the job, but you always regret it afterwards. I am the one who then has to listen to your whining about morals and ethics."

"And she's a cute kid, was totally on board for stealing some clothes for herself from the laundry shop while I was distracting the workers."

"Distracting?" 

"Chatting up the ladies, asking for laundry tips and getting my shirt off for some hands on instructions." 

"Yeah, that must have been as distracting as any misery," Lambert quipped and then pointed over to a formation of rocks forming a long natural wall. "I know this place, there's a clearing somewhere on the other side, protected from the wind and other people passing by. Could still be a good spot to make camp for tonight."

They dismounted and led their horses past the underbrushes deeper into the forest. After another half mile of rounding the high boulders, they found the opening. 

The thicket had grown further into the clearing than the Wolf Witcher remembered, but they cut down some branches and soon had enough space for their mounts and bedrolls. Afterwards, they watered the horses at a nearby stream while combing them down simultaneously. It didn't go unnoticed by Lambert how Aiden still favoured his side during the task. 

Back at the clearing, he started a small campfire to help him see better and then told Aiden to sit down so he could have a look at his injury. 

"You know I can do that myself, I actually did survive without your help before," the Cat Witcher chuntered.

"Barely," Lambert yapped back and removed the bandages with more force than necessary. 

Boosted by the potions, the flesh had already grown back together, leaving only a bright pink scar that would fade with time, yet was still tender to touch. The skin around it was as colourful as a rainbow and Lambert delicately pressed down on the haematoma to rub in some wolf's bane ointment. 

"Ow! Watch it," Aiden exclaimed and slapped his hand away. "I thought you wanted to help me heal and not torture me more." 

Lambert slapped back at the Cat's arm and chastised him.

"Stop fidgeting, do you want a rupture?" 

"No, I want you to be more careful!" 

"I am! What am I supposed to do, kiss it better?" 

"You could try," Aiden spat. 

Following an irate impulse, Lambert pushed Aiden down with a hand on his shoulder, earning himself a knee to his ribs for jumping onto another Witcher, and pressed his mouth against the black and blue mark surrounding the fresh scar. The angry furrow between his eyebrows turned into a frown as he leaned back on his heels and stared down at the other man, who lay motionless and wide-eyed beneath him. 

Licking his lips, Aiden finally nodded his chin down at his injury. 

"That helped a little," he breathed with an unusually high voice. "You should try again."

"You are such a dumbass," Lambert growled and then pounced once more, this time aiming for Aiden's mouth. 

The Cat Witcher laughed into their kiss, causing Lambert to hit his lips on his teeth unpleasantly and starting to laugh at their own foolishness, too. 

He buried his face in Aiden's neck, his giggles vibrating against the warm skin, and felt the other man lock his arms around his back and pepper kisses onto the side of his head. 

All the tension in his body left with a sudden surge of relief. The question that he hadn't dared to formulate, yet had lingered vaguely in the back of his mind, had been answered and the suspension of how to act around Aiden was gone. 

"We're doing this right?" he needed to know as he looked at Aiden's radiant smile and the happy crinkles around his eyes. 

"I don't know what exactly you're talking about, but yes, I'll do whatever you want us to do," Aiden confirmed. 

"I mean this," Lambert answered and captured his best friend's lips in a slow kiss that was considerably tame until the Cat Witcher licked along his lower lip and the Wolf opened up with a moan. 

"Yeah," Aiden smirked as they both gasped for breath. "We're definitely doing that." 

Wanting to dive right back in, he craned his neck towards Lambert, but the Wolf moved his head back, his eyes flitting around as he searched for the right words. 

"But not just that, more. Because I like you Aiden, I really like you." 

Aiden stared at him with raised eyebrows, then a sudden snort burst out of him. Confused and uncertain about the laughter, an angry mask shifted over Lambert's face and he tried to turn away, but the other Witcher kept his hold on him. 

"You're really bad at this," the Cat grinned broadly. "I love that about you!" 

The words were like a bucket of ice water to the burning anger building up new walls within him and Lambert stopped his attempt to escape the looming humility. Tentatively, he approached the chance of bliss. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes, I love you."

"You do?" Lambert asked surprised and Aiden had to laugh again at the dumbfounded look on his face. 

"I must, 'cause I fucking hate the way you pick your nose, yet I'd rather watch you scratch your peabrain through your nostrils than be without you."

Lambert felt the smile on his face expand in tandem with the warm feeling inside of his chest. He still felt embarrassed about being so vulnerable, but also giddy and proud, like he used to feel as a young brat at Kaer Morhen after passing his new brothers' tests of courage. 

Emboldened by Aiden's words, he let the man pull him down into another kiss, always mindful of the bruising on his side. He shifted his weight onto one arm, grabbed Aiden's jaw with his free hand to move him as he pleased and deepened their kiss. A low grumble rolled through the Cat Witcher's chest and turned into a purr as he was handled to Lambert's liking. 

The Wolf let his hand possessively glide down along Aiden's neck, paused on his chest to feel his partner's sounds of approval vibrate against his palm and then moved lower to where his shirt was still rugged up to expose the injury. 

The flushed skin felt invitingly warm and Lambert couldn't wait to map out every part of Aiden's body. He started by running his fingers through the coarse body hair, letting his nails scratch over the plain of muscles. Breaking their kiss, he shifted the shirt further up and pulled it over Aiden's head. 

He leaned back and appreciated the view for a moment, moving his thumb back and forth over a faded scar right over the other man's colarbone. 

The day he had given Aiden this scar seemed like centuries ago, still he remembered their first meeting perfectly. Naturally, Lambert hadn't trusted the Cat Witcher. The history between the School of the Cat and the School of the Wolf had been too bloody to ignore and Aiden, true to himself, had acted like a real asshole. When they drew steel, he had quipped about how Lambert's longsword was surely compensation for his tiny dick, while Lambert had wondered aloud if they actually teached Witchers how to fight at the School of the Cat instead of just how to pussyfoot around. 

Two hours later they had shared a bottle of pepper vodka and stories from the path. With his brothers, Lambert always felt the need to proof himself and it became a competition of who had killed the bigger monster and who had fucked the hottest women. Geralt and Eskel had accepted their fate of a life as a Witcher, even seemed to embrace it from time to time. They only had eye rolls and bemused smiles for Lambert's bitching about ungrateful townsfolk refusing to pay the whole reward and mistrustful peasants shouting indignities at him. Geralt's little bard wasn't the miracle worker he thought he was and Vesemir would have rebuild Kaer Morhen before a village would welcome Lambert with open arms. Yet, there was no use to complaining in the other wolve's opinion. Life just was what it was.

Aiden, on the other hand, understood his anger, endorsed it even. He shared the frustration about always being judged not by who he was, but what the world had made him to be. The Cat Witcher didn't just play at hating his school and the people connected with it, he did it passionately. When the same men who had conspired with the Cat Witchers against the Wolves turned on them, too, Aiden had turned his back on the school's ruins and felt a freedom he had last known before he was taken as a child. 

Lambert had contemplated how much Vesemir would hate one of his boys fraternising with one of the psychopathic Cat Witchers and how shocked his brothers would be when they heard that he just drank with and fell asleep next to a stranger, being so generous with his trust. 

Though he had felt good with Aiden, felt his troubles were taken seriously, and despite the grave topic, the other man had been able to make him laugh harder than he had all summer. As he had fallen asleep he had caught himself thinking that even if the Cat had been playing with him, he at least would have had a last pleasant night on this godsforsaken earth. 

He had woken up the next morning with the other man, no longer a stranger, snoring softly next to him. When they had parted ways, Aiden had joyfully suggested that they should do it again some time, and they had. 

Lambert was pulled out of his thoughts by a hand covering his own. 

"Did I ever say sorry?" he asked smiling, his fingers gliding over the scar, confident that the other man knew what he meant. 

"No," Aiden grinned, understanding without words where Lambert's thoughts had drifted off to. "But I remember you saying _You're welcome_."

Lambert chuckled and leaned back down to continue the kissing, while his hand moved on, caressing every patch of skin he could find. A welcomed tranquility settled over him as he focused on the man beneath him. There was nothing to hear but the crackling of the fire, the crickets chirping beneath the bushes and the soft gurgling of the nearby stream, though Lambert's ears where tuned in on the little sighs his partner made. 

Aiden made explorations of his own, running his hands along the broad expanse of Lambert's shoulders and down his back. Taking hold of Lambert's ass, he pulled the man down against himself, both of them mindful of Aiden's injury. 

The younger Witcher made himself comfortable between Aiden's legs and slowly rutted their hips against each other. He enjoyed the unrushed make out session immensely. They both weren't hard yet, though he could feel the warm thrill of being turned on tingling beneath his skin and, judging by the soft noises Aiden made, the Cat Witcher felt the same way. Usually, _potency_ would electrify his body by now, turning his cock rock hard and his touching frantic and desperate, before his lay would even notice that his dick didn't work the same way as any healthy human man's. The paid hour with a prostitute would go by with quick, rigorous fucking, leaving both parties tired and wrung out. This time, there was no need to feel embarrassed about his body's reaction or more precisely the lack of it, there was nothing to compensate for. Aiden knew him, knew what it meant to be a Witcher first hand and held no expectation that needed to be exceeded. He could relax into the feeling, shut off his head and simply enjoy the moment. 

Still, it wasn't long before Lambert got impatient and longed for the feeling of skin on skin. Pulling back, he quickly got rid of his jacket and let Aiden help him getting his shirt and shift off. He groaned at the feeling of their sweaty skin gliding against each other as they pressed their naked chests back together. It quickly turned into a yelp as Aiden took hold of his midriff bulge and squeezed. 

The older Witcher laughed at the indignant look on the Wolf's face. 

"I always wanted to do that," he confessed and stroked along the soft mass of flesh. 

"Yeah, haha," Lambert grumbled. "I got fat, no need to rub it in." 

"No," Aiden disagreed with a lazy smile. "You had a profitable year. I'm glad whenever we meet up and you have some weight on your hips, it means you've been faring well." 

Lambert snorted and prodded a finger against Aiden's chest. 

"You're full of shit."

"I heard of a guy who once had all the bullshit fucked out of him," Aiden leered up at Lambert, who chuckled at his ridiculousness. 

"It's worth a try," the Wolf agreed and licked and nibbled his way down along Aiden's neck, while his hands moved to the fastening of his partner's trousers. 

"Wait," the Cat Witcher moaned and pulled painfully at Lambert's hair when he wouldn't immediately listen. "Not yet."

"You're turning shy on me now?" Lambert questioned with a raised eyebrow. "I have seen you naked a hundred times before, Aiden. Your dick is no mystery to me." 

"For what I am planning, I don't have to be naked, yet. I'd only get cold."

With a heavy sigh, the Wolf leaned back on his heels. 

"What is that sexy plan of yours, that doesn't need you naked and has you so uninvolved that you could get cold?" 

"I want you to sit on my face." 

And just like that, Lambert could finally feel his blood pooling and his limb dick twitching in urgency. The pure notion had freezed his brain and left him speechless. 

Unfortunately, Aiden took his silence for disapproval and began to stutter out an explanation. 

"It's your thighs, they're like tree trunks and the thought of being caught between them makes me weak, but bending over seems like a bad idea at the moment, with my side still healing."

"Shut up," Lambert near shouted and jumped to his feet, his hands hastily fumbling with the buckle of his belt. "We're doing that, but if you keep talking, I'll have to take _potency_ and fuck you unconscious after all."

Aiden laughed out loud at that and Lambert felt something in his chest constrict at the joyful sound. 

"Well, then come back down here and shut me up," the Cat Witcher winked, his head cushioned on his arms, showing off his bulging biceps. He laughed some more as he watched Lambert struggling when he shoved down his trousers and they got caught on his boots, then dropped onto his ass to pull those off, too. 

Finally, the Wolf Witcher was fully naked and shuffled on his knees towards his partner. He hovered above Aiden, his legs bracketing the other man's head and shoulders. 

The Cat sneaked his hands beneath Lambert's thighs and pulled him forward, until half his face was buried beneath the younger man's groin. He took a deep breath through his nose and groaned with relish, then turned his head to the side and kissed as far along the muscled thigh as he could reach. When he couldn't stretch his head further, he followed the same path back with his tongue, making the leg hair wet with spit sticking in reverse against the skin. Satisfied with having mapped out this side with his mouth, he blew along the damp area, sending shivers down Lambert's spine with the cool sensation. 

Aiden's hands didn't stay idle, either. He continued to stroke along Lambert's back, kneading the muscles within his thighs and his ass. Everywhere his warm palms touched, he left a flow of goosebumps behind. 

He ignored the half hard dick in front of him for now, turning instead to the other thigh and gave it the same treatment. Though this time, when the skin was thoroughly kissed and licked, he didn't tenderly blow against it, as Lambert predicted, but captured the flesh between his teeth and bit down with deliberate pressure. 

The Wolf's whole body jerked with the unexpected pain and he could feel his arousal rise with it, the sting providing an thrilling contradiction to the soft pleasure Aiden had given him. Mouthing along the bite, Aiden held up the weirdly good mixture of pleasure and pain and sucked and nibbled until a red spot bloomed beneath the skin. 

At long last, he nosed Lambert's slowly filling dick. The Wolf Witcher sighed at the long awaited attention on this part of his body. Aiden mouthed along the base let the coarse hair there tingle across his lips. He licked a broad stripe along the underside from root to tip and then suckled on the glans. 

"Fuck, Aiden," Lambert burst out. He had trouble to not just shove his whole dick down the other man's throat and indulge in the warmth enclosing him. His eyes close and his mouth agape, panting irregularly, he sat bent forward and braced himself with his hands in the dirt above Aiden's head. He cursed again when he felt ten little pinpricks bore into his skin beneath his shoulder blades and the Cat Witcher scratched his nails down along his back, until his hands reached the Wolf's ass. 

Following the silent order, Lambert let his hips be pushed down and sank further into the wet heat of Aiden's mouth. The older man continued to suck and lick along the shaft, while Lambert build up a lazy rhythm of shallow thrusts. He could feel his dick filling out, still glacially growing with the excitement and finally reaching full hardness. The tip bumped against the back of Aiden's throat now and the Cat leaned his head back and relaxed his muscles to invite the intrusion. 

"Fuck, you feel so good."

Lambert groaned at the tightness, the vice-like grip around his prick as Aiden deliberately swallow around him. 

Too early for his liking, there was a tap against his thigh and he had to pull out to let his partner breath. 

"Okay?" he checked after Aiden took some deep gulps of air. 

The Cat's lips were shining with saliva and some spit ran down the corner of his mouth. Sweat had gathered in his hair and on his forehead, and in the light of the dying fire he looked like he was glowing. 

"Perfect," he answered with a gleam in his golden eyes and leaned forward to swallow Lambert down once more. His hands grasp around the Wolf's ankles and when he rested the back of his head on the bed roll, Lambert's body followed him, taking full control over the situation. 

The next time Aiden had to sign his partner to pull back, he let his teeth graze a nudge to sharply along the shaft, then plastered his face to Lambert's groin and panted hot air against his testicles. Dazed by lust, the Wolf Witcher kept up the small motions of his hips, his dick gliding across Aiden's face and his ball sack slapping over his chin. Aiden captured the sack between his lips and let his tongue dance around it, pushing and pulling the already sensitively swollen balls. 

He palmed Lambert's ass once more, squeezing the firm globes before pushing against them to force their owner to shuffle higher. Shifting one arm to his lover's front, Aiden splayed his fingers over Lambert's abdomen and forced him to sit back up. He patiently patted along the six-pack slightly cushioned with fat, while waiting for Lambert to catch his breath. 

The Wolf combed back the hair that had fallen into his face and the smiled down at Aiden. His wild hair tickled the inside of Lambert's thighs and his mischievous eyes twinkled up from behind the Wolf Witcher's erection. 

"You wanna switch?" Lambert asked, ready to reciprocate the sensual attention he had received. 

The Cat Witcher sluggishly blinked up at him before sharing his thoughts. 

"Not yet, I'm not done down here." 

The words streamed in hot breaths over Lambert's asshole, causing it involuntarily to contract, and he quickly ran out of patient. 

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" 

"This must have been the longest time you have gone without telling me to stop licking everything." 

The Wolf made a huffed sound that fell between affronted and amused, then ran his fingers through Aiden's hair and got a tight grip on the dark locks. 

"Situations like this deserve an exception," he growled in a low voice, leaning slightly down to hold Aiden's eye. "So I'm telling you. Don't. Stop!" 

The Cat Witcher mewled and grabbed Lambert's hips to pull him closer to his face. The first probing of the tip of Aiden's tongue on the delicate spot of skin right behind his balls had Lambert gasping in surprise. He had forgotten how good just the slightest touch in that area could feel. His cautious self-exploration during the long winter nights at Kaer Morhen seemed ages ago. 

Aiden worked his way down, first moving his tongue in broad swipes over Lambert's perineum to his balls, then flitting it with swift titillating movements from left to right and back again back down to his asshole. He repeated the action, until Lambert's thighs trembled and his chest heaved with choked off breaths, then swirled his tongue around the puckered hole. 

Putting his teeth to the plump flesh of Lambert's ass, he teasingly bit down on it, before moving his lips back to his hole and started to suck and lick in earnest. 

The hand in Aiden's hair twitched over his scalp, pulling close to painfully on the strands. Lambert's other hand groped for Aiden's hand on his hip, interlacing their fingers and squeezing with a desperate strength. His hips had started a wayward rhythm, swaying and bouncing in chase of his ecstasy. 

It was difficult for him to stay focused, time seemed to blur into touches and exhilaration. Subconsciously, he noticed burning of the muscles in his thighs, his parched throat and the low groans that kept escaping it, but it all didn't register next to the simplicity of getting lost in Aiden's caressing. It was like meditating, his mind floating in a fuzzy haze of calmness, except instead of the numbing nothingness of self-imposed trance, there was trust and contentment and the ever crushing waves of pleasure. 

Aiden guided their joined hands to Lambert's cock, taking a firm hold and starting to stroke in time with the Wolf's rolling hips. It didn't take much until Lambert's panting stopped, his breath caught in his throat, and with a heartfelt groan, he came over their fists, some white streaks dripping over Aiden's forehead and into his hair. 

With a weak curse, Lambert dropped to the side and sprawled out next to the other Witcher. Aiden threw him a complacent grin, not minding the spit and sperm that coated his face. The childish glee radiating from him was contagious and Lambert giggled as he seized Aiden by the neck and pulled him into a filthy kiss that tasted of musk and sweat. 

"How does your side feel?" he asked after pulling back just enough to mumble the question against his partner's lips. "Sore?" 

"Nah, feels alright," Aiden hummed, pushed Lambert onto his back and made himself comfortable on his chest. 

The unattended campfire had died down by now, only embers were left glowing hot red in the dark, yet Lambert didn't feel cold with Aiden wrapping himself tightly around him. As they continued kissing, the Wolf Witcher could feel the other man's hard on press against his leg and his own desire rekindled with red hot lust. 

"You're smudging cum onto me face," Lambert complained just for the sake of being difficult and feeling Aiden's chest vibrate against his own in a silent laugh. 

"It's your cum, stop whining," was the Cat's fond respond. 

Sneaking his hand between their bodies, Lambert palmed Aiden's erection through his trousers. 

"Your turn, you got any preferences?" 

"Oh, I know exactly what I want," Aiden purred and propped himself up on Lambert's chest. He took Lambert's hand in his own and curled all of his fingers towards his palm except for the middle one. 

“You promised me something, remember? _Up your ass_.” 

Holding his partner's gaze, he licked the finger from root to tip in a mocking gesture of what he had done earlier to Lambert's dick, then sucked it into his mouth, wetting it deliberately with spit. 

The Wolf's eyes were wide and he had to clear his dry throat before he could eagerly answer. 

"You get naked, I get the wolf's aloe gel." 

The rolled apart, Aiden quickly unlacing his boots and then kicking off his trousers and small clothes, while Lambert dashed to his saddle bags and got out the gel he usually reserved for when his skin was so painfully dry, it cracked. 

The Cat stretched out on his back, his limbs tangling around Lambert as soon as he leaned above him. 

Satisfying his own curiosity first, the Wolf took hold of Aiden's dick and watched with rapt attention how the head vanished and reappeared in his fist while he slowly jerked him off. When he looked up to check for the Cat's reactions, it was clear to him that he had misplaced his focus. The relaxation on Aiden's face that was only disturbed by squeezed shut eyes and a scrunched up nose whenever Lambert would add a tight twist to the stroke of his hand was such a pleasant sight, that the Wolf just had to kiss the man again. 

Aiden groused in protest when Lambert pulled back, but stopped his complains when he saw the younger man coating his fingers with the wolf's aloe gel. 

He moved the slick finger straight to Aiden's ass and massaged his hole in firm circles. The Cat Witcher's kisses became sluggish, his mouth turning slack just moments before his rim's muscles relaxed and allowed the Wolf's finger an easy intrusion. 

"That's it," Lambert praised and steadily moved his wrist back and forth, each motion pushing a bit deeper. 

"More," Aiden sighed into Lambert's neck and the Wolf peppered his forehead with kisses. 

"Sure," he approved and added a second finger, this one slipping inside easily. 

He twisted and scissored them tardily, hoping to get his partner into the same trance like mindset he had been himself in. For a moment, he did nothing but probing and pushing against the inner walls, while his thumb ran along the puckered hole from the outside. 

"Good?" he checked in with his partner, who just hummed happily, his reluctance to use actual words was already answer enough. 

Aiden melted against the bed roll, his mind calm and his arms resting weakly on Lambert's shoulders. His contentment was tangible in every soft sigh and every pleased hum and the Wolf greedily sucked those from his parted lips. 

The fingers in his ass began to move with purpose, crooking and searching until they rubbed over that little nub that had the Cat Witcher arch his back and choke in a broken gasp. 

Lambert made a triumphant noise at the back of his throat, added a third digit and started to fuck Aiden on his fingers in earnest, every other thrust aiming for his prostate. 

The Cat was clutching Lambert's shoulders and moving his hips in time with the penetrations. The tranquility had left his body by now and his muscles were coiled with rising passion. 

"Lambert," he panted and the hand working him slowed down, causing him to squeal in resentment. 

"More," he finally remembered to clarify, fighting off the fog in his head long enough to get the good feeling to return. "Fuck me, Lambert, come on." 

The Wolf Witcher gave him a predatory grin, added more gel to his fingers and pushed them back into his partner. 

"We gonna have to get some other lubricant if we do this again," he mused as he generously greased Aiden's asshole. "Right?" 

"Shit, yeah! I know a recipe for ergot seeds oil," Aiden nodded enthusiastically and pushed back down onto Lambert's fingers. 

"I'll keep an eye out for ergot seeds then," the Wolf grinned and reclaimed his hand to spread gel over his cock. As slowly as a Witcher's blood would pump into his prick, it would take nearly as much time for it to exit, which caused Lambert to still be moderately hard. Paired with the pretty picture Aiden made coated in cum, he was ready to go for his second round without further goading. 

Taking himself in hand, he paused before entering Aiden, a thoughtful frown appearing on his brow. He knew he was being ridiculous, knew that they both had consented to extending their relationship, nonetheless he had to ask. 

"But we're still best friends right?" 

"What?" the Cat asked befuddled and then erupted with laughter, which only doubled at seeing the affronted look on Lambert's face. 

The Wolf Witcher growled and set back on his ass, pondering if he could justify punching his friend right now. 

"Stop laughing, you dickhead, I'm serious." 

"Is this-," Aiden spluttered. "Is this your way of asking if I will still respect you in the morning?" 

Lambert slapped his thigh hard enough for a loud clap to resound, still the Cat Witcher only twitched shortly without pausing his giggling.

"I just don't want us to be like those fucked up couples who start resenting each other as soon as they get together," he argued, letting the uncertainty of the situation turn into anger and pulled back when Aiden tried to reach for him. "But I guess it's too late for that." 

"No, Lambert," Aiden tried to placate him, pressing his lips together when a new wave of laughter bubbled up. "I'm sorry, you blindsided me. Man, we gotta work on your communication, little lamb. I really thought you were fucking with me."

He sat up and plastered himself to the Wolf's side, grabbing his chin and forcing him to face him. 

"You are and _will be_ my best friend, lover and love," he pledged and watched the fabricated fire in Lambert's eyes gradually die down. He tried for a roguish smile that he knew the other man loved pretending to hate. "Now would you please fuck me or do I have to cut off your dick and do it myself?"

The younger Witcher still pouted, but leaned into him. 

"Tell me you love me again and I'll consider it," he muttered, his voice full of gravel, as if issuing an uncompromising ultimatum. 

Aiden snickered again and pressed a kiss to his Wolf's temple. 

"You're a lamb in wolf's clothing and I love you."

He wrapped his arms around Lambert's shoulders and kissed him properly, who let himself be persuaded into deepening it. Using his body weight over Aiden, the younger Witcher pushed his lover back down onto the bed roll. 

At last, his tiny content smile was back in place when he pulled away and looked down at the Cat. 

"You and me?" he murmured against Aiden's lips, still not able to properly articulate the question, but needing an answer anyway. 

"You and me," Aiden replied with a steady heartbeat, his embrace tightening for a moment. 

They made out some more, taking their time to build up the thrumming need beneath their skin, before Lambert reapplied the last remains of the wolf's aloe gel. 

Aiden groaned sensually when Lambert finally entered him. The Wolf paused and kissed along Aiden's jaw, while he waited for the other man to get adjusted. When the Cat Witcher began to move his hips in small waves, he took up the attentive rhythm and went a bit deeper with every roll of his hips. 

His eyes squinched shut involuntarily, Aiden felt so good around him, so tight, and he could feel the other man's heartbeat thundering against his chest. Pressing his face into his partner's neck, he speed up his thrusting and delighted in the small punched out sounds that Aiden made. The Cat made him feel so good, has always been so good to him, he just hoped he could make Aiden feel the same joyful thrill he felt. 

He paused deep within Aiden and pushed back onto his knees, pulling his lover's hips into his lap and sinking even further into him. 

"Shit, wait," Aiden gasped as the new position shot pleasure through his whole body like a lightning strike, but simultaneously brought too much strain onto his side. 

Lambert immediately slipped out of him and let his hips carefully sink back to the bed roll. 

"Sorry, fuck, did I hurt you?" 

"Yeah, no, just stretched it too much. Here, you lie down," Aiden directed him and the two switched positions. 

He climbed into Lambert's lap and they both moaned in unison as he sank down on the Wolf's dick. Taking control, he began with rolling his hips, grinding down onto the fat cock filling him up, and then worked his thighs to bump up and down on it. 

Lambert was humming with desire beneath him, grabbed the Cat's hips and pulled him down with more force. Aiden rode him until his muscles burned and his thighs trembled. Catching his breath, he braced his arms on Lambert's chest and gyrated his pelvis. 

Lambert was full of praise for his Cat, telling him how hot he looked impaled on his dick, how he wanted to keep Aiden open and wanting just for the other Witcher to enjoy whenever he wanted. His hands wandered over his lover's ass, fumbling the globes and then slipping fingers into the crack. Two fingertips nudged along the rim and felt how his dick moved in and out of the older man. 

"Mine," he growled almost in awe as he stared with wide eyes at Aiden, drinking in every sight and every sound his partner had to offer.

"Yes," Aiden hissed and pulled one of Lambert's hands towards his face to kiss his pulse point and nuzzle against the palm. "Yours, take me."

Moaning at the words being spoken so squarely, the Wolf bend his knees and planted his feet wide, using the strength in his legs to fuck up into his lover. 

Aiden cried out and threw his head backwards, nearly losing his balance over the strike of lust exploding from his prostate. He choked on air, unable to regain his breath as Lambert began to pistol in and out of him, battering against the small bundle of nerves that began to throb with the abusion. 

Aiden's face was scrunched up, his mouth hanging slack open, and his fingers were tugging on Lambert's chest hair, trying to hold onto something, anything. 

"You like that?" the Wolf growled after an especially viscous thrust. "Does it feel good when I fuck you like that? Come on, tell me." 

It took Aiden some time until he had gathered enough air in his lungs, until he could answer in panted breaths. 

"Fuck, you- you know it does." 

"Yeah, you love my cock, right?" Lambert groaned. "Gods, you feel so good."

Aiden grasped behind his back and held onto his lover's knee, before the man would accidentally buck him off. He noticed the Wolf's thrusts getting desperate even before he declared that he was close. 

"Touch me," Aiden urged him, hoping to come on his lover's cock before the younger Witcher got too sensitive to fuck him any more. 

Lambert did as he was told and jerked Aiden off with the same punishable pace. Aiden's asshole clenched around him, jostling him closer to the edge, and the Cat pinched his nipple in warning, but it simply exhilarated his desire. His brows furrowed and his breath caught in his throat, then he couldn't hold back any longer. 

"Fuuuck," he exclaimed loudly and with an almost brutal push of his hips he came inside Aiden. 

"No, you bastard," the Cat whined and slapped Lambert's chest with his palm. "Shit, come on."

Lambert tried to keep up the movement with small jabs of his hips and half-hearted strokes on Aiden's dick, but it wasn't nearly enough to get the man off, and after a few minutes the Wolf stopped completely. 

"Give me a moment," he wheezed and let his limbs flop onto the ground. 

His still half hard cock slipped out of Aiden, as the other man leaned forward and lay down on top of Lambert, his chin resting on his chest. 

"You selfish son of a whore," the Cat scolded him, but his eyes twinkled and his voice sounded amused. His dick was wet with precum and it slid smoothly back and forth as he absentmindedly fucked Lambert's thigh. 

"Not my fault you're so irresistible," Lambert shrugged and stroke his fingers over his love's hair. 

Aiden purred at being petted, his eyes falling shut, yet didn't neglect to nag at the Wolf. 

"No excuses, I want my orgasm."

"Yeah, yeah." 

Finally having regained his breath and the control over his own muscles, Lambert turned them both over and kissed down Aiden's body. 

"Oh yeah, you whoreson, do like mommy would," the Cat winked, causing Lambert to snort against his abdomen. 

"Shut up, or you can blow yourself."

"You've been talking shit the whole time, it's my turn." 

"Stimulating shit, like, I'll suck that witty attitude out of you," Lambert huffed, his hot breath burning teasingly against Aiden's cock. "You'll come so hard down my throat, we both won't be able to talk afterwards."

A low whine escaped Aiden's throat and he poked his dickhead against Lambert's chin impatiently. 

"How about we both shut up and you just put your mouth on me?" 

Throwing one last cocky grin up at his love, Lambert swallowed him down. He wasn't as practiced as Aiden and began to splutter when the other man's cock bumped against the back of his throat. The slip was covered by pulling back and mouthing along the base, while he coughed slightly. He spat onto the head and rubbed the saliva all over the shaft before trying again. 

What he lacked in experience, he tried to make up for with effort, licking and sucking until Aiden turned back to making those little broken off sighs and his hands were clutching at Lambert's hair. He moved his head back and forth with a rising speed and when the muscles in his neck began to protest, he pushed down as far as he could go, his nose burrowing into Aiden's pubic hair, and swallowed around him. 

Breathing heavily through his nose, he concentrated on controlling his muscles, trying to stay limber and not lock up. His gag reflex may have been driven out of him during his training as a Witcher, but it still felt unusual to have a long cock shoved down his throat. Spit flowed messily out of the corners of his mouth and ran down his lover's lap, while his jaw started to ache, still he didn't stop, the feeling of having the other man at his mercy, being trusted to make him feel good, was to powerful. 

Above him, Aiden kept chanting pet names, some old ones, some new ones and some that were just odd. Lambert found them all endearing, though he would never admit that he liked being called little lamb, darling or a cock connoisseur. 

When he pulled back, gasping for air, he licked his palms and worked Aiden's dick with one hand, while fumbling his balls with the other. 

"You're one tenacious bastard, aren't you?" he smirked up at the other's slack face. "Come on, let me taste you."

His laugh came as small huffs through his nose, when Aiden cursed and pushed his head back down onto his cock. He quickly evened out his breathing and flattened his tongue against the underside of the shaft to take in more. His hand kept kneading and tugging at the Cat's ballsack, feeling the strain building up. Pulling all registers, he shoved three fingers with little warning back into Aiden's asshole, his own cum squelching as it leaked out around the digits. 

Aiden shouted out loud in surprise, adjusted his hips, and began chasing his own peak. 

Finding it difficult to get air through the ramming down his throat, Lambert screwed his eyes shut and held his breath. He moved his wrist with firm thrusts, always aiming for the point of lust within his lover, and when he thought he couldn't stay down much longer, he finally felt Aiden stiffen beneath him and then hot liquid shot down his throat. 

As he pulled off, some semen dripped down his chin, the amount of spit and cum that had gathered in his mouth just too much to swallow all at once. Aiden's muscles still twitched and he helped him ride out his climax with smooth jabs of his fingers, licking up the remains of cum, that trickled out of the slit like an afterthought. 

When the spasms through the Cat's body stopped, Lambert moved away and dropped down next to Aiden's hip. 

"There," he croaked, his voice fucked out. "Satisfied?" 

"Very," Aiden sighed and stretched his arms over his head. "You gonna come up here and cuddle?" 

"I'll never move again."

And he reall was very content where he lay, his cheek pressed to Aiden's skin, smelling their scents mixed in sweat and spit and sex, while he could see the colour of the sky lighten, dawn sneaking in and painting the clouds a soft pink. 

"Bitch, come up and cuddle me," Aiden whined and kicked his foot out, rocking Lambert from his resting.

"Will you keep quiet if I do?" the Wolf mumbled tiredly into Aiden's side, the strain of the day catching up with him at last. 

The Cat Witcher's voice sounded equally tired, but he was adamant. 

"Cross my heart!" 

Rolling his eyes, Lambert crawled up and plopped down on his front next to his partner. Aiden rolled half-way on top of him and twined his limbs around him, his fingers running through the Wolf's hair, who melted into the touch. 

"You should stop using so much pomade, it makes your hair fall out faster," Aiden disturbed the peaceful moment. 

"Shut up, my hair's fine." 

"Did you ever see the back of your head? Because I'm looking at it right now and let me warn you, you're getting bald."

"Aiden, you crossed your heart." 

"Sorry, shutting up." 

The Cat burrowed his face in Lambert's neck and his warm breath tickled the small hairs there. Feeling more content and comfortable then he ever could remember, pressed into the hard ground by 200 pounds of Cat Witcher on his back, Lambert wished they could stay like this forever. 

"How long until we have to get going?" he couldn't help but ask, the complications of the world outside of their small bubble already nagging at the back of his head again. 

"Let's just rest for two or three hours before we pack up," Aiden answered lazily and wriggled until he lay more comfortably. 

"Alright, sleep tight. Love you," Lambert whispered into the crook of his arm, where he cushioned his head. 

He was about to drift off, when the pleasent smell of _them_ was blemished by the scent of salty tears. 

Turning his head towards Aiden, he worriedly peaked over his shoulder at the other man. 

"Was I too forceful? Does your side hurt?" 

"A bit, but it was totally worth it," the Cat Witcher sniffled, his eyes shining watery-bright with slowly falling tears. 

"Aiden," Lambert stressed. "You're crying." 

"Yeah, I know. It's just- too many emotions overflowing." 

"Oh," the younger Witcher stupidly said. After a short pause, he asked for clarification. "Good ones or bad ones?" 

"Very good ones," Aiden assured him and smiled brightly through his tears, proving his point. "Stop worrying." 

Lambert hummed as Aiden pressed a kiss to his temple, then they both settled down, their faces close to another, and fell asleep to the comforting sound of each other's heartbeats. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have lied to you and to myself, I hope that I will come up with the last LAST chapter soon
> 
> thank you for being patient! 🐐


	5. Can I be the only hope for you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time to get the reward and think about the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of hopeful open ending

Lambert woke with a start, not because a foe was close, but because a friend was missing. He looked around the camp frantically and found Aiden's pack and swords where they had left them last night. A few feet away, his mare was grazing next to Lambert's own horse. So he didn't have second thoughts and just ran away. 

Before he could worry that something might have happened to his lover, the sound of rustling leaves and light footsteps reached his ears and the next moment, Aiden stepped out from between the bushes, naked as the day he was born, except for the boots on his feet. 

"Hey, you're awake," he beamed and came closer without worrying about his state of undress. "I just took the biggest dump, it looks like a fiend shit back there." 

His by now flaccid cock was swaying as he walked and animatedly talked with his hands to emphasise the size of the pile. 

Lambert ogled every displayed patch of skin, trying to calm his unusually quick beating heart with the reality that Aiden was right in front of him and not dead in a ditch. That his shit luck didn't give him one good thing in his fucked up life and then immediately took it away again. 

"Why the face, did something happen?" Aiden asked as he saw his Wolf's pinched expression. 

"It's just-," Lambert frowned and wondered how many of his own insecurities he wanted to burden Aiden with so early in the morning. "I can smell the pile from here." 

The Cat Witcher chuckled as he helped his partner up from the bed roll. 

"Let's go to the river, take a bath and escape the stench."

He picked some of the dried cum from Lambert's chin, thumbed the cleft there and then pulled him into a quick kiss. 

"Good morning," he hummed and then walked over to his bag to fish out his soap, having no clue how Lambert's heart felt about to burst out of his chest with the lightness of this ordinary moment full of happiness. 

"Coming?" Aiden shouted over his shoulder and the younger Witcher fumbled to pull on his shoes and then hurried after him. 

The stream wasn't very big, even in the center they both could still stand with their heads over the water. They plunged in fully first, then waded back to the shore to scrub off cum and dirt with the help of the unscented soap. It was a cheap cake made of lard, but it did the job well enough. 

Feeling a bit uncomfortable as he watched Aiden squat down to clean out his asshole, Lambert searched for a topic that may distract him from the awkward sight. 

"So, what were you doing in Mulbrydale?" 

"Oh, just happenstance. I galloped as far away from Novigrad as my wound would let me and then wanted to look for a healer in the next town I came across." Aiden didn't turn to look at Lambert, his eyes fixed over his shoulder where he had his fingers scrubbing along his cleft. "It was pure dumb luck that I saw your horse outside the tavern." 

"You were riding south," the Wolf Witcher realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "You didn't want to come to the meeting place."

Pausing in his cleaning, Aiden faced Lambert, embarrassment and anxiety written all over him. 

"As I said yesterday, I was afraid to come."

"Afraid of what?" Lambert yapped at him. "Of me?!" 

"Of rejection?" the Cat shrugged a bit helplessly. "Having ruined our friendship? As soon as you were out of my sight, I started to overthink everything. I thought that the kiss was just to calm me down and get me to focus on the hunt. I don't know." He went back to scrubbing the soap over his skin, up his arms and over his shoulders."I was scared that I had ruined what we had and that you would treat me differently now. I didn't want things to change."

Lambert came over and took the soap out of his hand. 

"Things _have_ changed," he pointed out and pressed a firm kiss to his lover's lips to get his point across. "You think that's bad?" 

Aiden shook his head ruefully, giving Lambert a sheepish smile. 

"Good. Now turn around and let me wash your back."

The Cat did as he was told, but the moment he turned, the younger Witcher caught his ankle with his foot, sweeping his feet from beneath him, and then pushed his head underwater.

"That's for letting me wait the whole night at that creepy place _you_ had suggested to meet up at," Lambert railed at him as he resurfaced spluttering, then threw himself at the older witcher and submerged them both. 

They started jostling, dunking each other into the river and coughing wildly when they swallowed too much water while yelling with laughter. Lambert cackled at Aiden, whose long hair was plastered over his face and blinded him to the Wolf's next attack. He saw the Cat forming a Sign with his hand in defence and had time enough to yell that there was no magic allowed during water fights, when Aard already hit the water and sent a giant wave over him. 

Pushed back by the force, he landed washed up on shore on his back. His coughing turned into giggling while Aiden sauntered over. 

"Do you give up?" the Cat Witcher asked smugly and sat heavily down on top of Lambert's chest. 

"I don't have to, you're already disqualified, cheater," Lambert argued and pushed Aiden off. "Now hand me the soap, so we can finish washing." 

"I don't have it, I gave it to you before you attacked me."

"Ah shit, I dropped it," the Wolf grimaced, knowing full well that Aiden wasn't as casual about his hygiene as he was himself and wouldn't take the loss so easily. 

"You dropped my soap?!", the man squealed as expected. 

"And you washed it away with your mega wave." 

"The current had already done that!" 

"We should get a move on anyway," Lambert deflected and put on his boots to walk back to their camp. "Come on, I'll buy you a new one."

The pout on his friend's face remained while they got dressed and packed up, so he also promised to steal some of that luxurious shit the bard always bought the next time he would run into Geralt. 

"It's not the soap," Aiden sighed. His injured side looked much better by now and he was able to saddle his mare without feeling any sort of pain. "I'm pissed at myself for being a coward. I always talk shit about you wolves running from your emotions and the one time it gets serious I'm the one running off."

"But you came into the tavern when you saw my horse," the Wolf pointed out. "Why?" 

"Yeah, I saw your dumb horse and thought that it must mean something. I didn't want to end up like Geralt and hide from destiny forever."

Lambert blinked at Aiden, who was uselessly fiddling with the saddle's straps, and a smug grin broadened on his face. 

"You fucking sap," he teased with a nudge to the Cat's shoulder. "You think I'm your bloody destiny."

"To my defense, I was delirious with pain and blood loss and high on potions," Aiden answered with a small smile and then took his mare's reign to lead them back to the road. Lambert followed with his own mount close behind. 

"Don't be embarrassed, Aiden," the Wolf yelled after him. "Come on, I'm your destiny, you can tell me everything. How long since you've planned our wedding? Have you chosen your dress yet?" 

Aiden heaved a theatrical sigh. 

"I'm really beginning to believe that you are my destiny. I mean, I did some awful things in my life and I always knew that someday I would pay for my sins."

"Shut up," Lambert retorted. "I'm the best thing that ever happened to you." 

Aiden simply chuckled while Lambert made kissy noises at him. 

They rode further north, a bit too close to Novigrad for Lambert's comfort. He was baffled when Aiden took the road down towards the Cunny of the Goose, an inn close enough to the free city to be filled to the brim with weary travelers and the scum of the populace. 

"The last time I suggested an inn, you told me there were too many people who could recognize us," he shared his doubts, but the Cat calmly reassured him. 

"This time we _want_ people to recognize us and the man we'll be meeting there. Afterwards we'll stay away from Novigrad for two or three years and nobody will care two hoots about us anymore."

They arrived at the Cunny of the Goose near dinner time and the tables were filled accordingly. The room was humming with voices, but they all went silent as soon as the first Witcher stepped inside the inn, then turned to anxious whispers as the second one followed. 

Holding the trophy bag at chest height, Lambert made eye contact with whoever was brave enough to look at them directly, indicating that they had a reason to be here, that they had fulfilled a contract for which they had been summoned. His jaw tensed when Aiden walked straight to a table occupied by knights of the Order of the Flaming Rose. 

Upon seeing the Witchers approaching, the men slowly stood and laid threatenly their hands upon their weapons, ready to seize them if need be. The WoIf felt his fingers twitch by his side with the desire to do the same, but the careless saunter of Aiden next to him, reassured him that everything was under control. 

In their middle sat a highly decorated officer, who didn't seem surprised by their arrival and calmly took another sip from his ale before regarding them. 

"Good day, Witcher," he greeted Aiden politely, but didn't motion for his men to relax. "I wasn't confident you would make it." 

"Cats always land on their feet," Aiden remarked and took the trophy bag from Lambert to put it onto the table in front of the officer, right between the tankards of ale and plates with chicken and potatoes. 

"I came here to collect my payment, Weinheim." 

The bearded man in the iron armor squinted over at Lambert before laying down his fork and opening the bag to reveal Nikael Berezo's decaying head. The skin had gained a noxious yellow colour and the eyes were sunken and sallow. The mouth hanged slack, the purple tongue lolling out as if to have a taste from the knight's dinner. 

Weinheim examined the head with sharp eyes and then turned his gaze back at the witchers. 

"So, the men didn't see double that night. There were two Witcher's involved in the murder of Berezo." 

"Not murder, killing," Lambert interjected. "You can't murder a monster." 

Aiden pulled out the contract with the seal of the Order of the Flaming Rose, holding it casually high enough for the bystanders to see, before putting it down on the table next to the severed head and repeating himself impatiently. 

"My reward, Weinheim." 

With a huff, the knight leaned back in his seat and pulled out a leather purse. He counted out a handful of golden coins and stacked them in front of the two witchers. 

"That's not what we had agreed on," Aiden hissed, his fists at his sides tightening.

Some of the inn's guests quietly stood and left the building in fear of getting caught in an upcoming fight. The maid, who had previously pranced between the customers and served food and ale, was now standing tensed behind the counter, ready to duck and hide. 

"That's more than enough for killing one man," Weinheim scoffed. 

Before Aiden could say the wrong thing in front of all those guards around them, Lambert stepped forward. 

"For a human maybe, but the contract is about a higher vampire. Those are especially hard to kill and as you can see, it required two witchers to bring down the vampire called Berezo," he threw the knight's lie back at him. 

Weinheim had used the false rumor of Berezo being a vampire against Aiden, who'd never have taken the contract had he known that this was just a human playing at being a monster. Now he would turn the game around and use it against their employer. With his hands braced on the top, he leaned over the table and whispered his threat. 

"So pay up or you'll learn what else two witchers are capable of." 

Weinheim glared at the Wolf through slitted eyes. His men around him shared uncertain glances; they didn't like it, but they knew that the witchers were in the right and the Order of the Flaming Rose didn't have the same leverage in this roadside inn like it did within the walls of Novigrad. 

With a snarl on his lips, the high-ranking knight reached once more inside his purse, counted out twice the amount than what was already laid out, and then threw the coin with a careless flick of his wrist onto the table. Some of the crowns kept up the momentum and rolled over the edge, clinking as they fell to the ground.

Lambert eyed the pieces on the floor, enough for a good night at the tavern, but not enough to give that bastard the satisfaction of a witcher scrabbling in the dirt for his earnings. 

Aiden seemed to agree with that sentiment and only gathered the reward on the table with a swipe of his hands. 

"Let's hope that this is a reason at last for the maid to sweep the floor properly," he chatted amicably as he pocketed the reward. "It looks like a troll's hideout in here, I don't understand how you can trust the food."

"Yeah, smells even worse," Lambert affirmed, crinkling his nose. "Smells like Order of the burning shit in here."

The reaction was immediate. The knights drew their swords even before their commander had jumped out of his seat with a red face and pointed his own weapon at them. 

"I'd choose my next words very carefully, witcher. An apology is owed and you'd do well to deliver it."

"You're right," the Wolf sighed and put his hands on his hips, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry that I never checked in with your mother again, but she was just the worst lay."

One of the knights' swords clashed against the Quen shield that Aiden had quickly cast around them. It broke with a bright explosion, but gave Lambert enough time to pull his own steel sword and block the attacks that hailed down on them. 

Protected by the Wolf Witcher's defense, Aiden ducked low and rolled beneath the table. His dagger slashed through Weinheim's calcaneal tendon, the sinew made a sound like a cracked whip as it was teared apart, and the knight fell to the ground with an agonized cry. The next cut was aimed at his sword hand, disarming the man and then bringing the dagger down hard enough to pin his other hand down onto the wooden floor. 

In a swift move, Aiden rolled back onto his feet, drew his sword and pointed the tipp against Weinheim's throat. 

"Enough!" he yelled loud enough for the whole tavern to freeze. 

The Order's knights paused, but kept their weapons raised, their eyes switched between their leader and the two Witchers. 

Weinheim kneeled stock-still at Aiden's feet, the only movement was on his face which pulled into a grimace that twitched with the pain of his wounds. 

"Stand down," the officer snarled through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with anger fixed on the Cat Witcher. 

His men shared skeptic looks before slowly stepping away from the Wolf Witcher. For every step they took, Aiden moved away from Weinheim at equal pace. Soon the two parties stood divided by the table between them, weapons still in hand and watching tensed their opponents. 

"Gentlemen," Aiden drawled when they were close to the exit. "Thank you for your time." 

The two Witchers turned and walked out, their steps steady, but the grip on their swords remained firm and their senses stayed tuned in on the knights at their backs. 

Lambert sneered one last time over his shoulder as Aiden stepped through the door in front of him. The Order's men were still in their spot, some of them having moved only to help their commander, who was too occupied by his injuries to order his knights to attack again. 

Outside, they hurried to their horses, not trusting that Weinstein won't send his men to follow them after all. 

"You just had to insult his mother," Aiden scolded as they jumped into the saddles, but couldn't suppress his grin. "Why not just walk in and say _hey, I'm here, my balls are too big for my own good, let's fight._ "

"As if you weren't waiting for a reason to slice that whoreson up a bit. Strictly speaking, I did you a favour." 

"How noble of you."

They spurred on their horses to take them away from the inn and Novigrad as fast as possible. At crossroads they decided in the spur of the moment which way to go, making it difficult to track them. 

When the horses grew too tired to keep up the pace for much longer, they slowed down and then stopped at the next town. The sun was hanging low on the horizon by now and dark clouds neared sluggishly from the east. It was about time to find a place to rest. 

The settlement was too young to have a name yet, the buildings were still fairly new and there had been no need for a notice board so far.

As they slowly rode towards the town's small tavern, a young mother shouted out of an open window for her children to quickly come inside. A man with deep wrinkles on his face saw them coming his way and hurried into the opposite direction. The two Witchers paid no mind to the people's worried expressions, it was the same wherever they went. 

They dismounted in front of the tavern and bound their drained horses to a post next to a hay bale, left there for a free-roaming goat that was currently gnawing on the wooden fence. 

"Look," Aiden pointed with glee at the animal. "It's your brother's girlfriend." 

Lambert chuckled at his friend's juvenile joke as he stepped up to the tavern's door. He pushed a hand against the wood, but it wouldn't budge. Frowning, he tried to pull the handle, but the door still wouldn't open. 

He heard rustling clothes and frantic whispers inside, peered over at the tavern's sign that greeted all customers with a warm welcome and then turned around to Aiden. 

"Fuckers have locked us out." 

"Pricks," the Cat cursed under his breath then leaned past Lambert to knock on the door in a musical rhythm. 

"Excuse me," he said in his most polite voice, loud enough to be heard inside but not so much to seem aggressive. "We traveled very far, we're tired and thirsty and so are our mounts."

Pausing for a moment, he shared a glance with Lambert, who rolled his eyes and stomped down to the main street to look for another, more hospitable place. 

"We've got coins to spend. Please, open up," he could still hear Aiden argue. A trembling voice answered loudly. 

"These are honourable people living here. We don't want your kind bringing us trouble-" 

Lambert drowned out the hostile voices coming from the tavern and concentrated on the buildings that were clearly occupied. 

As he walked along the road, he could hear a mother tell her children that everything will be okay if they just stay quiet, while in another house a woman asked her husband if monsters will turn up near their town now that witchers are looking to get paid for killing those. Every home he passed reeked of fear and disgust and he was glad when he reached the end of the town, where the smell of farm animals and grass was carried by the wind, along with the dank smell of wet stones and moss. Straining his eyes, he made out a well close to a field on which cows browsed idle. It must have been the place where the town got its water from. Relieved that they wouldn't have to go on without something to drink, even though he would have preferred an ale, he made his way back to Aiden. 

"Bunch of stubborn pricks," the other Witcher told him as he walked up towards the tavern. 

Lambert could easily see the frustration within the Cat building up as he walked up and down in front of the house to get rid of some of the anxiety. 

"Whole town is, but I saw a well near a field just outside of town," he reported, then stopped his lover's pacing with a hand to his shoulder. "So, your schmoozing of the locals didn't do shit?" 

Aiden put his hands on his hips and shook his head disgruntled. Gnawing on his lower lip, he glared at the tavern. 

"You think they understand that we could just set the building on fire if we actually wanted to harm them?" 

"I have enough bombs to wipe out this whole town. Too bad we don't actually do that kind of stuff, I'd love to see that explosion." 

"Yeah," the Cat Witcher sighed wistfully. "Though it is a waste of energy to care that much about those assholes. Those guys could stand in front of me burning and I wouldn't take the time to piss on them to put them out."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. Actually, I would piss on them even though they aren't burning at all," Lambert smirked and nodded towards the tavern's entrance. "You in?" 

"Fuck yeah!" Aiden rejoiced and followed his partner to stand in front of the locked door. 

They unfastened their trousers and took out their cocks, giggling like naughty kids. 

With a foolish grin, Aiden held his upturned palm out towards Lambert,who paused, but didn't lose his own manic smile. 

"You want to hold my hand?" 

"Unless you want me to hold your dick, yes," the Cat laughed and made a delighted noise when Lambert changed out the hand he held his cock with and put his free hand in Aiden's. 

The youngest Wolf Witcher bent his knees and swayed his hips to make the stain he left on the door as big as possible. He looked over towards the wet picture Aiden was drawing and noticed that the other man wasn't really aiming at all. In fact, he was close to standing in his own piss. Raising his gaze to his lover's face, he was pinned down by the intense focus of Aiden's eyes on him. 

Moisture highlighted his eyelashes and his smile had turned into something soft. A mix of emotions flickered over his face and Lambert couldn't stand to watch him drown in his own thoughts. Using their joined hands to pull his lover closer, he gently knocked their heads together. 

"Stop staring at me while I'm taking a piss, you pervert." 

Chuckling, Aiden let go of Lambert's hand and they both shook off the last drops before fastening their trousers again. 

They led the horses to the well and let them drink from the bucket after filling up their waterskins first. 

Lambert still catched Aiden's gaze while he pulled the refilled bucket up again. 

"What's on your mind, creep?" 

"I'm just looking my fill. Never know when I get the chance again," the Cat claimed wistfully. 

Lambert put the bucket down in front of his mare, then sat on the well's encircling wall next to Aiden. Laying his hand on his friend's knee, he gave a reassuring squeeze. 

"That's what's been going through your head?" 

"There are reasons why witchers walk the path alone and those fucks just demonstrated one of them. They barely tolerate one of us and get shit scared when there's two." Aiden let out a deep sigh and put his hand on top of Lambert's. "If we stay together we'd have less work but twice as many mouths to fill." 

"I didn't expect us to," the Wolf Witcher shrugged, which gained him a raised eyebrow from his partner and he went on before the Cat could get more upset. "Yeah, I love you and I want to stay with you, but the fucking world won't catch up on that. I never liked separating from you and it will probably be worth this time around, but I always trusted that we'd find each other again and we always did. Remember, I'm your bloody destiny," he wisecracked with a nudge of his elbow into Aiden's side, who shoved back and then grabbed his lapels to pull him into a kiss. 

They parted when they felt the first drops of rain falling, simultaneously looking up at the cloudy sky above them.

"Looks like it's going to be a rough night. We should get back in the saddle if we want to find shelter before it starts pouring."

Riding side by side towards the next crossroad, they discussed who would go which way. Lambert had heard a rumor about a nest of nekkers in Benek, while Aiden wanted to lay low in Toussaint for a while. The Wolf Witcher had proposed to meet up at Kaer Morhen to spend the winter together, which was ruled out because no one could exactly say how his brothers and Vesemir would react to an unknown Cat. He would have to tell his family about his partner first, to ease them into the idea of a Witcher from another school coming into their home. 

Despite the rain getting stronger, they took the time to stop at the crossroad. Aiden divided the reward they had gotten from Weinheim and gave Lambert his share, then pulled him into a tight hug.

"Good luck on the path," the younger witcher whispered into the crook of his lover's neck in lack of knowing what to say. 

"Don't get killed," Aiden answered and kissed the side of his head before pulling back. 

"Shit, are you crying?" he exclaimed in disbelief at Lambert's blotchy face.

"The fucking rain's gotten into my eyes," the Wolf denied with a sniffle and Aiden beamed at him. "Oh, shut up, I told you I hate it whenever we part ways."

"I'll miss you, too," the Cat declared through his own tears, took Lambert's face between his hands and pressed another kiss to his lips. "Gods, we should go or I'll stay at this stupid crossroad with you until we cough our lungs out. See you next year, Lambert" he said in parting and then mounted his horse to start his way south. 

"Until then," Lambert nodded, got on his own mare and steered her along the road towards east. 

The horse didn't take many steps, before he stopped her again. Looking back over his shoulder, he howlered at his leaving lover. 

"Hey, Aiden!" 

The man turned, a question written all over his face. The young Wolf threw him an impish grin. 

"Pussy." 

A broad smile bloomed on Aiden's face. He licked his lips, then turned his sight back on the road ahead of him, but his answer was loud and clear. 

"Bitch!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is done! they meet up many times over the following years and have the time of their life's together In my head :)  
> I hope you enjoyed the story 🐙  
> thank you for your patience once again!

**Author's Note:**

> personal disclaimer, this is not normal or healthy, these are dumb frat boy assholes who are at times sexist because they think they are tough and funny and I wrote this because it is fun and interesting on paper, but not at all something I would like to witness irl
> 
> ofc the titles are song text  
> story = Pink - Bad Influence  
> Ch. 1 = Pink - Don't Leave Me  
> Ch. 2 = Cosmo Jarvis - Sure As Hell Not Jesus  
> Ch. 3 = De Staat - Tie Me Down  
> Ch. 4 = Toto - Africa  
> Ch. 5 = My Chemical Romance - The Only Hope For Me Is You


End file.
